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“You thought yourself alone, you Christian dog.” 




THE RUBY RING 

OR 

TRUTH WILL PREVAIL 

BY EMILY NONNEN 


FROM THE SWEDISH 

BY E. W. OLSON 

WITH 7 ILLUSTRATIONS 
BY JENNY NYSTROM 


CHICAGO 

THE ENGBERG-KOLMBERG PUB. CO.: 
1908 



LIBRARY of CuNGRESSj 

Two Oopies Received 


DEC 14 1908 



Copyright 1908 

by The Bngberg-Holmberg Publishing Company. 


FOREWORD 


“The Ruby Ring'” is one of a number of ex- 
cellent stories by ILmily Nonnen, an authoress 
whose family, orig'inally from Holland, in the 
early part of the last century settled in Lon- 
don, where she was bom 1812. In 1819 the Non- 
nen family moved to Gothenburg. She as well 
as her brother were well educated, the latter 
obtaining' prominence in various ways. The 
stories by Emily Nonnen, first published from 
1859 to 1864, have had a wide circulation 
throughout Sweden, and are as popular as 
ever. Written principally for the edification of 
the youth of both sexes, they are nevertheless 
of interest to more mature readers. 

The booK in hand is illustrated by Jenny 
Nystrom, one of the most productive and 
prominent Swedish illustrators of the present 
period. 

A companion booh to “The Ruby Ring'” 
bears the title “The Fortunes of Life, or Strug- 
gles of The Ornshield Family.” 


CONTENTS 


Chapter Page 

Foreword 3 

I. Childhood Memories 5 

II. The Ring 19 

III. The Birthday 31 

IV. The Farewell 38 

V. The Voyage 43 

VI. A Night of Terror 54 

VII. Calcutta 66 

VIII. A Demon 81 

IX. The Tiger Hunt 91 

X. The Caravan 101 

XI. The Storm ill 

XII. A Discovery 122 

XIII. The Trial 126 

XIV. My Fatherland 133 

XV. Lindesvik 146 

XVI. Under the Lindens 156 



I. 

CHILDHOOD MEMORIES. 

° TWT a ti me » while sauntering beneath the lin- 
den trees and listening to the hum of honey- 
^ bees among their sweet blossoms, I have re- 
viewed my past life and thought I would some day 
write a book about it, which my children, when 
older, might read and profit by. Bearing them in 
mind, in the first instance, I may sometimes depart 
from the common mode of telling one’s life story 
by dropping the thread of my narrative to reflect 
upon certain happenings which were of more than 
passing interest to me, and again, when the scenes 
grow too vivid for pen to picture, I may lay it 
down and take up the pencil or brush in order that 
my readers may see them as I saw them, real and 
lifelike. 


6 


THK RUBY RING 


At Uindesvik, a large and beautiful estate, own- 
ed by one Gyllenfeldt, the King’s chamberlain, I 
first saw the light of day. Not long after, my 
mother was left a widow. My father had been a 
schoolmaster, who, after the fashion of the time, 
was obliged to go from house to house teaching the 
children to read and write. Had conditions favor- 
ed him, he might have made a better career and 
reached a higher station in life, for he was a 
gifted writer, as witness many an essay and poem 
carefully preserved by my mother, who on memor- 
able occasions would bring forth these cherished 
manuscripts and read them to me. The people round 
about spoke of him as a man of great prudence and 
often recalled his witty sayings. 

Being a child of but tender age at my father’s 
death, all my early recollections cluster about my 
mother, my very first memory going back to the 
time when I sat in her lap and sought to wipe away 
her tears or unconsciously called back the smile to 
her lips with my childish prattle. 

At a very early age I was permitted to go 
along with her to the nearby country church on 
Sundays. She then wore a black skirt, gathered 
in ample folds, a neat, close-fitting jacket of the 
same jet-black shade and a white kerchief upon her 


CHILDHOOD MEMORIES 


7 


head. As for myself, I remember very well how 
my bosom swelled with boyish pride over the bright 
buttons on the front of my coat. 

I clearly recollect the mighty impression the 
altar-piece made upon my mind and how charmed 
I was by the grand peal of the organ and the over- 
whelming sound of the hymn. Possibly the har- 
mony was not all that a critic might wish, but the 
devotion of the singers was beyond question, and 
never in after years did music so deeply impress 
me. 

Psalms — the hymns of the Swedish Church — 
were the first that I memorized, and at an early 
age I could recite quite a number of them by 
heart. My mother herself taught me to read and 
write, and as I was an apt pupil, she believed, in 
common with most mothers, that her son was a 
budding genius. 

Our little cottage in the w’oods, with its vege- 
table and flower garden adjoining, seemed to me a 
very paradise. True, the red paint on the walla 
was almost gone, but what little there was left 
made a pretty contrast to the dark green pine-trees. 
Winter or summer, these were always beautiful, 
whether glistening snow weighed down their branches 
or the new bright-green shoots of early summer gave 


8 


THE RUBY RING 


out their fragrant ozone. Oft in the still summer 
evening the thrush would sit there warbling his 
tender madrigal. 

The garden was my especial delight. In a 
little spot all my own I planted, higgledy-piggledy, 
spinach and hollyhocks, kale and carnations, daisies 
and potatoes, and all thrived well together and to 
my childish eyes looked wondrous fine. 

The cottage contained but a single room, and 
that a gloomy one. There my father’s old books 
were carefully arranged in rows on open shelves 
trimmed with strips of paper ornately cut out by 
hand. On the opposite wall an old-fashioned, gau- 
dily painted Dalecarlian clock ticked leisurely, and 
alongside stood a cupboard ornamented in homely 
fashion with great red roses on a blue background 
and in the center my mother’s name traced with 
many curves and snarls. Along the rafters in the 
ceiling ran white fringes, made and hung by my 
mother’s own hands. 

The spinning-wheel had its own proper place 
in one corner. There my mother was usually at 
work, and as she spun she would tell me what my 
father had told her from the books he had read. 
Or she herself read out of her well-worn Bible and 
hymnbook and spoke so beautifully of the love of 



Mr fc©s«M swelled with childish pride 

































CHILDHOOD MEMORIES 


9 


God and his only begotten Son toward man, and 
especially toward little children, that I was very 
much moved and promised her that I would always 
be a real good boy. I was quick-tempered, how- 
ever, and before long I would forget my good re- 
solve and be very, very naughty. This was often 
the case at the manorhouse of the estate, where I 
used to take a delight in provoking the anger of 
the young barons. 

Eindesvik was situated on a neck of land that 
jutted out into the bay, and up to the main build- 
ing led a drive- way, overshadowed by avenues of 
linden-trees more than a hundred years old. Such 
trees grew also here and there among the pine- 
woods on the cliffs, which sloped abruptly down to 
the water’s edge. The soil was fertile, and culti- 
vated fields extended far and wide on both sides. 
These might have yielded richer harvests, but for 
the fact that the baron neglected farming for riding 
and hunting, leaving the superintendent to manage 
the estate according to his own sweet will. 

The Baroness Gyllenfeldt, unlike her husband, 
was not fond of company, but in this, as well as 
in other matters, yielded to the will of her liege 
lord, probably less from principle than from her 
gentle nature and frail health. Toward her child- 


IO 


THE RUBY RING 


ren she was weak and affectionate to a fault, seldom 
refused them anything, and rarely left them out of 
sight. 

Herman, the eldest son, was most like his 
mother. He was slow, gentle, even-tempered and 
prone to be lazy. 

The next eldest was Eouise. She gave one the 
impression of being haughty, seemed to warn one 
to keep at a respectful distance and showed cold- 
ness towards all, but once on intimate terms with 
her, one would find her more agreeable than might 
be supposed. 

Charles Emil, the third in order, was a hand- 
some and sprightly lad, liked by all who did not 
come in close contact with him, while to his com- 
rades he was malevolent and treacherous and often 
unkind to those beneath him. 

The best child of the four was Clara, eleven 
years old at the time of which I am writing. She 
was a sweet girl and so well liked that she was 
called the Pearl of Eindesvik. 

She was the little friend of the sick and the 
poor, and as her mother never could deny her any- 
thing, she had no trouble in getting her consent to 
have the housekeeper fill a basket of good things 
for the needy, whenever she wanted to make her 


CHILDHOOD MEMORIES 


1 1 


visits of charity. When this little beam of sunshine 
with her full basket entered some dingy hut, where, 
a child was crying or some poor old person lay sick, 
it seemed to the tenants like a visit from one of 
the little angels of heaven. 

She spoke childish words of kindness and com- 
fort to all, and when she crossed the threshold to 
depart, she was followed by many a blessing from 
shrunken lips. 

In summer she was wont to dress in very light 
colors, and on Sundays and holidays the little misses 
of the manor-house always wore white. We child- 
ren would often bind a wreath of blue cornflowers 
for Clara, and you should have seen how charm- 
ingly it crowned her sheaf of golden tresses, beneath 
whose waves beamed her great eyes of deeper blue. 

Among us children she acted as peace-maker, 
and was always ready to set things to rights, when 
there was a falling out between playmates. Some- 
how, we all took reason when she made her appeal, 
spoken in words as soft and melodious as the twitter 
of birds. 

My mother, who was an expert housekeeper, 
often went to the manor-house to help out with the 
work, such as cooking, baking, fancy laundering, 
and in the slaughtering season. I was wont to 


12 


THE RUBY RING 


accompany her; and later on, whether for my fresh 
and sturdy appearance or my rollicking disposition, 
I found such favor that I was permitted to come 
alone to play with the children, and, when they 
grew older, to share their studies. 

In some ways, I already knew a bit more than 
they. I could guide them to the best strawberry 
patches in the woods and show them where the 
finest raspberries grew. I dared climb the tallest 
trees to gather birds’ eggs and taught them how to 
bind baskets of ferns and grasses in which to bring 
our booty home. 

I went out with the boys in their boat and 
helped them row or managed the sails, and for Mid- 
summer’s Eve I brought a mass of leaves and flow- 
ers for the girls and helped them bind wreaths for 
the may-pole. Whenever a birthday or namesday 
was to be celebrated it was I to the woods in quest 
of the prettiest things growing wherewith to deco- 
rate the tea table. 

On such occasions I would sometimes venture 
to recite a congratulatory verse or two of my own 
making. I would pen my lines with great pains on 
a daintily tinted sheet of paper, and as no member 
of the genteel house of Gyllenfeldt had the gift of 
making rhymes, my verses were greatly admired. 


CHILDHOOD MEMORIES 


i3 


With the baroness I was in great favor. When 
she took long walks, I had the honor of carrying 
her cloak and campstool, and when she wished to 
send some one in to the neighboring town of Udde- 
valla, and there was no one else at hand, I was 
entrusted with the message. This made me feel 
that she had confidence in me, and I was always 
punctual so as not to forfeit the trust. 

The least friendly member of the family was 
the old baron himself. He was distant and stern 
toward his subordinates, which might also account 
for his manner toward me, and again, he may have 
had a lurking suspicion that the companionship of 
the schoolmaster’s son might breed boorishness in 
his own children. Be that as it may, he did not 
oppose the plan of the baroness to have me study 
with their children. 

In age midway between Charles Emil and Her- 
man, I was in a position to compete with both. 
That this would be beneficial to them the baroness 
and the tutor agreed. The latter showed me every 
kindness and permitted me to take all the subjects 
studied by his other pupils. 

Instruction in English was given specially by 
Miss Millicent, the tutoress of the girls. She was 
with us a great deal and often took us for an out- 


H 


THE RUBY RING 


ing, when we were required to speak nothing but 
English, for it was the purpose of the baroness to 
replace her with a French governess as soon as the 
girls could speak the English language fluently. 

Thus I passed many happy days-, darkened now 
and then by a tiff with Charles Emil, whose haughty 
airs and mischievous pranks I resented, for while I 
was fully as proud as he, I thought, like most oth- 
ers of low station in life, that haughtiness was found 
only among the upper classes. But for Miss Clara, 
my stay in the genteel family would have come to 
a sudden end after our first quarrel. She made 
peace between us, and after the truce all five of us 
'hurried down to the bay, where the “Elf Queen” 
lay rocking on the waves. The boat was quickly 
unfastened from its moorings and we were soon 
gliding merrily over the waters on toward a fir- 
crowned point, where we abandoned ourselves to 
childish frolics. The cliffs echoed with shouts and 
laughter; Herman grew as sprightly as any of us, 
and even the staid and frumpish Miss Eouise stopped 
moralizing for once and joined with zest in all the 
games. Tired of playing, we strolled far into the 
wildwood picking berries and gathering linneas, with 
which the girls decked their hats. 

These outings I enjoyed hugely, so much so 


CHILDHOOD MEMORIES 


15 


that I let pass unnoticed the slurs whereby Charles 
Emil time and again sought to show the son of the 
workingman his proper place. This he w T ould do 
whenever he thought his brother and sisters grew 
too confidential with me, and more especially when 
the tutor had a word of praise for me. For we 
returned to our books from these excursions, and at 
the end of the lesson hour he sometimes had an 
encouraging remark for the poor schoolmaster’s son. 

When this happened, I was busy all the way 
home through the woods building beautiful castles 
in the air or lost myself in dreams of future honors 
and distinction. I felt that fate had wondrous 
things in store for me, but what, I could not tell. 
Amid such reveries I reached my mother’s cottage, 
the sight of which always warmed my heart, for, 
after all, it was there my happiest hours were 
passed. 

While my mother sat in the gloaming spinning 
her flax, I would rehearse to her the day’s lessons 
or tell of our jolly games. In return, she would 
impress some golden teaching on my young mind, 
which has served as a guiding star through life. 

“My dear Carl,’’ she would say, “a liar is no 
better than a robber. Your father used to say that 
the slightest departure from the truth did more 


i6 


THE RUBY RING 


harm than we can imagine, and he was so wise, 
your dear old father.” 

Sometimes I read aloud from some interesting 
book lent to me from the manorhouse library. She 
listened with rapt attention, while smoothing the 
twirling thread or wielding the knitting-needles; but 
as soon as the great Dalecarlian clock struck eight 
she laid aside her spinning and knitting and turned 
to the Bible and hymnal for her evening devotion. 

With soft and quavering voice she would take 
up a melody, in which my childish treble joined, 
and thus the widow and her son approached the 
throne of the heavenly Father to confide to him 
their troubles and lay their hearts at his feet. 

I then snuggled down into my bunk and passed 
calmly into the wonderland of dreams. If by chance 
I awoke in the night, I might overhear my mother 
speaking with such confidence to the Ford, as though 
he had stood before her in person. This was espe- 
cially the case during the time I was being prepared 
for confirmation, which took place early, I being 
but fourteen years old. My mother thought me too 
young, but the baron insisted and overruled her 
protests. 

But the matter gave her grave concern. “He 
is still so young,” she said, speaking of me to God, 


CHILDHOOD MEMORIES 


i7 


“still in the heyday of his boyhood: how can I trust 
his sincerity?” And she prayed that she might 
some day come before the throne of heaven, saying, 
“Lord, behold the treasure Thou didst entrust to 
me. Pure and sanctified, I now return him to Thy 
care; but, dear Lord,” she added, “only by Thy 
guidance can this be done. Teach him, therefore, 
through Thy Holy Spirit, to walk in righteous paths 
and keep him ever under thy protecting wings.” 
She faltered, and there were tears in her voice. 
Then I also prayed — prayed that I might always 
so live as to bring joy to her dear heart. 

In after years, when at times a feeling of sweet 
peace and comfort would steal over me, I knew not 
how, or I was rescued as by a miracle from some 
great peril, I have rejoiced in the belief that in 
those very moments my mother w T as praying for 
her boy. And why might it not be so ? On the 
Jacob’s ladder of prayer the angels still pass up and 
down to do God’s bidding. And the Lord himself 
hath said, “Pray, and it shall be given unto you! 
Seek, and ye shall find.” 

I have dw r elt long upon these memories, because 
they form a distinct period of my life, isolated from 
the rest by a sudden change and seemingly all the 


i8 


THE RUBY RING 


more hallowed through my forcible expulsion from 
the Eden of my childhood. 

Children are prone to think that grown people 
look back upon their childhood with nothing but 
pleasant memories of those early days. They imag- 
ine that we discount the sorrows that to them seem 
deep and heavy, but it is a fact that to us, who 
have passed through the great trials of life, the 
petty troubles of the child are as nothing. We 
have climbed the mountains, from whose summits 
the foothills look like a level plain. 


II. 


The Ring. 

cr©)NE warm summer day — I remember it as 
though it were yesterday — I went to the 
manorhouse with a little sewing box I had 
made for Miss Clara. After handing over the gift, 
I waited in the hallway to learn whether the tutor, 
who was slightly ailing, would be able to hear us 
recite that day. The baroness then sent word for 
me to come up to her room. 

This was a light and cheerful corner room with 
one window commanding a view of the bay, the 
other of the forest. The baroness was seated in a 
great upholstered armchair by the latter window, 
with a black lace shawl thrown over her shoulders. 

She appeared frail and sickly, but her face was 


19 


20 


THK RUBY RING 


still beautiful. Holding in one hand a small jewel 
case, she spoke with faint voice: 

“I have here a broken ring which I should 
like to have repaired at once, but to-day there is 
no one going to town but L,ars of the Millrace 
farm, and him I dare not trust. But you have 
often run errands for me and shown yourself prompt 
and trustworthy: would you be so kind as to take 
this ring to the jeweler for me? You know the 
place, for you have been there before with bracelets 
and trinkets, I believe.” 

“Yes; I was there only a week ago, with Miss 
Uouise’s watch chain,” said I. 

“Very well; be careful with the ring, and tell 
the jeweler I want it Saturday the very latest. It 
is an heirloom, handed down from my grandmother, 
and on that day I expect an aunt of mine, who 
likes to see me wear it. Now, my lad, I’ll place 
it in this little case, and I want you to be very 
careful with it.” 

With a slight pressure of her finger the lid of 
the little red box opened. She placed the ring 
between two pads of white velvet and then closed 
the case with a snap. I saw but a glimpse of the 
precious ring, but I thought it the prettiest thing 
I had ever seen. The baroness wrapped the case 


the; ring 


21 


in paper, tied the package with a bit of twine and 
entrusted it to my hands. Proud of the trust, I 
made a deep bow and assured her that her orders 
would be promptly carried out. 

So great was my anxiety over the treasure that 
I dared not put it in my pocket, but carried it 
tightly gripped in my hand. 

It was a charming morning, with the air still 
cool and clear. The avenue of lindens stood in full 
bloom, and bees by the thousands were buzzing, 
honey-laden, among the fragrant blossoms. 

Reaching the public highway, I hastened on, 
glancing ever and anon at the little package in my 
hand, as if to assure myself it was still there. The 
farther I got, the more I thought of the ring, won- 
dering how it really looked. The baroness had 
spoken of it as a thing of great value, and as hav- 
ing at one time belonged to her grandmother, all 
of which set me pondering what it might be worth 
and how old it was. 

To my youthful mind all pretty things had an 
irresistible charm. If the ring sparkled so beauti- 
fully in the chamber of the baroness, I reasoned, 
how wonderful would be its lustre here in the bright 
sunlight ! 

I had not then heard the legend af Psyche, 


22 


the ruby ring 


who opened the forbidden box, but now I can read- 
ily imagine she must have been moved by the same 
curiosity that I felt as I proceeded along the road, 
constantly thinking of the treasure concealed in that 
little parcel. 

Why not take a peep at it? It would do no 
harm. How, then, could it be wrong? I need not 
even take the ring out of the case, but simply look 
at it where it lay. Reasoning thus with myself, I 
began to loosen the twine, but my hand trembled. 
I felt as though some one had laid a hand on my 
arm. Then I let go of the twine and tried to fix 
my thoughts on some other object, but shortly the 
temptation returned, stronger than before, and I 
removed the paper. 

The little red leather case looked so dainty. It 
could not be hard to open. I would try — but not 
here, on the public highway. A little further on 
there ran a byway through the woods, and there I 
turned out. Where the road crossed a brook that 
wound its way along under the dense foliage, there 
was a rustic bridge. There I sat down. After 
looking guardedly in both directions, and spying no 
one near, I pressed the spring and the lid was 
flung open. 

On its bed of white velvet lay a brilliant ruby 


THE RING 


23 


encircled with diamonds. The gold ring in which 
the gems w T ere set had parted, yet I could place it 
around my finger. How those jewels sparkled! The 
sunlight falling on those diamonds was reflected in 
all the colors of the rainbow. I wished I were rich, 
that I might own gems of such beauty. I even fell 
into reveries, as I would sometimes do, and my 
day dreams carried me far away into fancy’s won- 
derland. 

The spell was suddenly broken. I thought I 
heard approaching footsteps, and hurried to place 
the ring back in its case, but my fingers trembled 
from fear and the ring dropped out of my hand. 
With a faint tinkle it struck against a log in the 
bridge and disappeared. I stooped down quickly, 
but not a glimpse of the glittering jewel could I 
detect. 

In despair I threw myself down, crawled around 
on hands and knees, scrutinized every log, looked 
into every knothole, tore off every loose piece of 
bark and peered through the cracks into the water, 
straining my eyes to the utmost, but all in vain. 
The ring was nowhere to be found. 

I gave up my hopeless search. It was a terri- 
ble moment. For a while I was paralized with 
despair. When I regained my senses, the search 


24 


THE RUBY RING 


was renewed and extended even to the banks of 
the brook. I tore up tufts of grass, scratched 
around among the leaves and left no stone unturned, 
all to no purpose. 

What was I to do ? As one evil breeds another, 
my first thought was to go and throw myself into 
the bay or run away from home, for how could I 
ever show myself at Lindesvik after so thoughtless 
a betrayal of my trust? Only the thought of the 
sorrow I would inflict on my mother caused me to 
change my rash purpose. 

I next fell to devising some explanation of the 
loss. The road was a lonely one, and I might say 
I had been robbed, but then they w r ould upbraid 
me for taking a byway when the distance was but 
a trifle longer by the main road. 

Wild thoughts chased each other in my fever- 
ish brain, until I remembered my mother’s precept, 
“A liar is no better than a robber,” when I asked 
myself whether I could face her with a falsehood 
on my lips. 

The day was now so far spent that I might 
have gone to town and back again, and I feared 
my mother was growing anxious. I was compelled 
to decide for myself what to do. In the hour of 


THE RING 


25 


trial she would always turn to God and pray for 
aid; why not I? 

I fell on my knees and prayed fervently, be- 
seeching the Rord to grant that I might find the 
ring. Arising, I again renewed the search, confident 
of success, but my efforts proved as fruitless as 
before. 

At last, with slow and reluctant steps, I turned 
homeward. Everything around me looked so differ- 
ent, it did not seem the same road. One false step 
had so changed the beauty of God’s green earth 
that the things I had rejoiced in a little while be- 
fore now gave me pain. 

With a shudder I crossed the court-yard of 
Rindesvik. The baron was standing there examin- 
ing a new riding horse. I attempted to sneak by 
him unobserved, for it seemed more dreadful to face 
him than the baroness, but he had already noticed 
med and asked sternly, 

“What is the matter, boy, are you sick?” 

I was so frightened I could not reply, but sim- 
ply stammered. He asked me whether anything 
had happened to the boys, and commanded me to 
answer him instantly. 

“The ring — it fell — it is lost,” was all I could 


say. 


26 


THE RUBY RING 


“What! — You scamp, do you mean to say you 
have lost my wife’s ruby ring, that priceless heir- 
loom! Didn’t I warn her of the folly of entrusting 
such a treasure to a careless boy like you. Yes, 
and probably worse than that, for who knows, may- 
be . . . Out with the whole truth at once, young 
fellow, or else ...” 

The wrath of the baron w T as stayed, but what 
he said hurt me so keenly that after the lapse of 
many years I still recall the outburst, word for 
word. He was interrupted by the baroness, who, 
hearing him talking in a loud voice, emerged from 
an arbor near by. 

When she learned that her ring was lost she 
almost fainted. When she regained her equipoise, 
her anger was even worse than I had expected. 

By and by, the members of the family and the 
servants were gathered, and in the presence of all 
I had to tell my sad story. It was hard to find 
words, and a painful moment it was, made doubly 
painful by the fact that my words were doubted. 
My sorrow turned to anger, when the strain was 
relieved by the suggestion of Miss Clara that they 
all go down to the bridge on a renewed search. 
She was sure, said she, that the ring could not 
remain hidden from so many eyes. 


THE RING 


27 


The suggestion found favor, and all present, 
large and small, started for the bridge, except the 
baroness and her maid. The latter was unfriendly 
to me, and her whisperings and significant winks 
and nods irritated me more than ever before. Sum- 
moning new courage, I went with the rest. 

We searched and searched, but all to no 
purpose. 

When we returned, the baroness whispered some- 
thing in the ear of her husband, who at once ordered 
the servants to go through my pockets. 

However deeply I regretted that I had yielded 
to my curiosity, yet, to be suspected of theft on 
that account I thought was going too far. Pale 
and cold I stood while they ransacked my person 
and turned my pockets inside out. 

The young ladies wept and the boys were 
shocked, but I was beside myself with rage and 
after the ordeal called out loudly: 

“I am going home to mother: she knows I 
never tell a lie.” 

And without listening to what the bystanders 
said, I rushed down to our peaceful cottage home. 

“Mother,” I asked with tearful voice, “have I 
ever stolen anything or told you a lie?” 


23 


THK RUBY RING 


She turned pale and anxiously inquired what 
had happened. 

Her agony added to my despair. I was over- 
come by my feelings, and for a few moments my 
emotions bound my tongue. Then I confessed. 

It was terrible to see how she suffered, my dear 
mother, and now I began to realize the awful effect 
of what I had done. Her good reputation was her 
only treasure, and now I, her own child, had robbed 
her of that by putting a blot on her name. 

“But, mother dear,” I stuttered, “you —you 
trust me, do you not?” 

“Yes, my dear, to me you have never yet told 
an untruth, and I cannot believe it of you now, or 
you could not look me calmly in the eye, but you 
are, nevertheless, guilty of doing a great wrong. 
You may not be aware that you sinned by yielding 
to your curiosity. And then to become so angry!” 

“But, mother, if they make a false charge 
against me, haven’t I a right to resent it?” 

“My child,” she calmly continued, “your ill 
temper only made matters worse. We can only pray 
God that it may please him to let the truth come 
to light, and I doubt not that the facts will be 
known in due time, just .so we put our trust in the 
Uord. But now you must go up to the manorhouse 


THE RING 


29 


with me and ask to be forgiven and try to regain 
their good opinion of you. Haven’t they always 
been extremely kind to you? Think of how much 
you have learnt up there. It should make you 
grateful and humble. Ingratitude is a grievous sin. 
I have always thought that with such excellent 
schooling you might go to Gothenburg and prepare 
for teaching.” 

My mother, it appeared, had no inkling of my 
ambitious plans. I had mapped out a career quite 
different from that of a humble country schoolmast- 
er. But at this moment I had no taste for ambi- 
tious dreams. I was so downcast that for a long 
while I could not pick up heart to accompany her 
to Eindesvik. 

I shall not dwell on what transpired there. 
Suffice it to say that the baroness, who was a lady 
of great kindness of heart, softened at my mother’s 
tears and my own fervent prayers to be believed 
and forgiven, was ultimately reconciled. 

With a kindness, for which I am ever indebted 
to her, she persuaded her husband to permit me in 
the future to continue with their children in study 
and play. That would put me to the test and show 
whether or not I were worthy of their confidence 
and forgiveness. 


30 


THE RUBY RING 


At this outcome little miss Clara was highly 
elated. She had always taken my part. I myself 
might have enjoyed myself as before, but for a 
certain suspicious air about the place, especially 
among the servants. The lady’s maid wanted my 
place for a little nephew of hers, and I was well 
aware that to carry her plan through she used 
every means to keep alive the suspicions resting 
on me. 

This grieved me deeply, but Clara and Miss 
Millicent did their best to comfort me. The latter, 
herself a stranger among strangers, knew how it 
felt to be without friends. The two urged me to 
be of good cheer, banish the thought of lurking 
suspicions and by my behavior disprove them. The 
truth, said they, would surely be known sooner or 
later, just so I kept praying to God and trusting 
in his grace. 



III. 

THE BIRTHDAY. 

/g\N Miss Louise’s birthday, which occurred at 
(vK the height of the summer season, we w T ere 
^ given a half holiday in the afternoon in or- 
der to celebrate the event. After many different 
plans had been proposed and rejected, a picnic and 
supper in the woods was determined upon. Some 
young people from the city and the neighboring 
country places were invited. It was a glorious eve- 
ning, and everybody was as happy as a lark. 

I went ahead with a couple of well-filled bas- 
kets to the appointed place. There I had a throne 
prepared in advance, for the queen of the day, a 
little rustic seat covered with moss and decked with 
wild flowers. It had its place in a pretty dell un- 
der some weeping birches whose slender white trunks 


3i 


32 


THE RUBY R ING 

Stood out clearly against a dark back-ground of 
evergreens. The drooping foliage formed a canopy 
and the floor of the coronation hall was covered 
with a velvety green carpet. Through a gap the 
blue waters of the bay could be seen glittering in 
the evening sun. 

My task done, I stood watching a ship that 
sailed by before a gentle breeze. That moment I 
was seized with a weird longing to sail away to 
some distant land, where I might earn a great for- 
tune and buy a new ring for the baroness, like the 
one I had lost, whose image seemed burnt into my 
memory. 

While I stood there alone, lost in dreams of 
future days, the company burst merrily through the 
woods, carrying still other laden baskets. 

These were set aside, and we sought a grassy 
plot where the dance went merrily on, while I sung 
the tunes I had picked up from Blind Peter, the 
fiddler. 

When the dance was over, Miss Uouise took 
her place in the mossy seat I had prepared for her. 
Uittle Clara had made a coronet of flowers, which 
she placed on her head and I put in her hand a 
cane entwined with floral wreaths, in lieu of a scep- 
ter. Now the queen commanded that the tables be 


THE BIRTHDAY 


33 


set for the repast. On a large table cloth, spread 
on the grass, were placed plates, cups, bread-bas- 
kets and other dishes containing the eatables. I 
had built a fire near by, where the young ladies 
served as her majesty’s cooks, all hands assisting 
in preparing the tea. 

“Why, whatever has become of the silver cream- 
er?’’ Clara asked petulantly. 

“It must have been forgotten,” said Charles 
Emil, “I’ve unpacked everything from the baskets, 
and it wasn’t there.” 

“Indeed it was,” said Louise; “I remember 
plainly that we brought it out and put it in with 
the rest. Mama advised us not to bring it along, 
but I thought it would be so much nicer to use 
the silver service. What can have become of it?” 

“It was Carl who carried the basket with the 
silverware,” said Herman. “He took it and went 
ahead. — Carl,” he called to me, “what has become 
of the silver creamer?” 

“I took the baskets, but I didn’t know what 
was in them,” I replied, reddening, I knew not why 

“Our dear Carl probably lost it the same way 
as he did the ring, although there 'was no bridge 
to pass,” taunted Herman. 

“How was it about that?” inquired one of the 


34 


THE RUBY RING 


invited boys from the city. “I heard tell about the 
baroness having a ring lost or stolen. Tell me, was 
it a valuable one? And did that boy” — he lower- 
ed his tone to a whisper and motioned toward me 
— have anything to do with it?” 

“Eet’s not talk any more about it, ”said Charles 
Emil evasively, “he will be found out some day.” 

There was more tittle-tattle among the boys, 
with sly glances at me, which set my blood boil- 
ing. I could control myself no longer. Stepping 
up to the whole crowd, with flushed face and eyes 
aflame, I shouted in angry tones: 

“I am no thief. If anyone calls me that, I’ll 
knock him down and kick him!” 

The other boys drew back, but Charles Emil 
snickered scornfully. 

In my wrath I was about to rush at him when 
an excited voice called out, ‘‘Carl, be careful what 
you do!” and a small hand was laid on my raised 
arm. Several others stepped between me and my 
accuser. Then my hands dropped and I rushed like 
mad into the thick of the forest. 

I tore through dense thickets and scaled fallen 
timbers — nothing could detain me — and stopped, 
breathless, in a secluded spot, where some granite 
slabs formed a cave covered with ivy. There I 


THE BIRTHDAY 


35 


threw myself headlong on the damp ground among 
the ferns that grew within. I covered my face with 
my hands and lay for a long while prone on the 
ground with my brain in wild turmoil. 

How long I lay thus I know not, but I well 
remember that I was aroused from the stupor by a 
gentle voice that whispered my name, and when I 
looked up I saw Miss Clara sitting beside me. She 
had stolen to the spot with such gentle footfall on 
the mossy ground that I had not heard her approach. 

“Carl,” said she in a sympathizing tone, “how 
are you feeling? This is sad indeed, but won’t you 
come along with me now? They haven’t gone yet, 
but they are just getting ready to start for home. 
The boys were very mean to you, I admit, but they 
are not so very bad, after all.” 

“No, Miss Clara, I cannot go with you,” said 
I. “I know it was thoughtless and very wrong of 
me to open the jewel box, but I had no idea it 
would have such awful consequences. 

“Dear Carl,” the kind little girl continued, 
“Miss Millicent tells us we must guard against the 
first misstep, for we know not where it may lead, 
but neither did I imagine a bit of curiosity would 
be so dangerous. But what shall we do? Now sit 
up, Carl, “she coaxed,” and let us think it over.” 


36 


THE RUBY RING 


“Thank you, Miss Clara, you are too kind,” 
said I, rising. “But I can stay at Eindesvik no 
longer. I owe very much to your people for their 
kindness. My poor mother will be grieved, I know, 
but I cannot help it — I must away from here. How 
it is to be done I don’t know, but I’ll manage, 
somehow, to get along in the world, and show them 
I am not as bad as they think.’’ 

“You are right, I admit — so let us devise a 
good plan right here.’’ She put her head between 
her hands and set to thinking. 

I sat looking at her in silence, and in that 
moment she seemed to me a little angel sent from 
heaven. 

“I’ve got it,’’ she said, jubilantly. “I’ll speak 
to mama and papa about it. If I ask papa real 
kindly, I am sure he can get a good place for you, 
who know so much more than the other boys, for 
so the tutor told Miss Millicent. While you are 
gone, she and I will look after your dear mother, 
and some day you will come back and show them 
all that you are just as good and honest as papa 
himself. Won’t that be fine?’’ She laughed with 
delightful anticipation. 

I kissed her little white hand reverently and 
spoke solemnly, “Miss Clara, your words shall come 


THE BIRTHDAY 


37 


true, for it shall be the aim of my life to show 
myself worthy of your confidence. I know I have 
many weaknesses to overcome, but I will pray to 
God, and he will surely help me.” 

“I will pray for you too,” she said earnestly, 
“but why not pray here together? God will hear 
us in the woods as well as in the church.” 

So we both kneeled down and prayed in a soft 
whisper: ‘‘Our Father who art in heaven.” When 
we arose the full moon beamed down upon us be- 
tween the leafy branches overhead. A thrush in a 
nearby firtree sang his vesper song. The evening 
primrose shed its fragrance to the breeze. All 
nature was at peace, and even in my own bosom 
the storm had subsided. 

In pensive silence we walked side by side through 
the forest, reaching the open road, where we were 
met by a servant in search of Miss Clara. I bid her 
good night, and with my heart still throbbing with 
emotions undefined I hastened through the twilight 
gloom of that calm summer night down to our little 
cottage beneath the pines. 

My mother had already retired. I kissed her 
and received her blessing before I cuddled down 
into my low bunk, where the sweet, sound sleep of 
childhood soon erased all the bitter memories of the 
day. 



IV. 

THE FAREWELL. 


« HE next day I received word to appear before 
the baron and with palpitating heart I went 
to the manorhouse. 

My hand trembled visibly when I turned the 
knob and entered into the presence of my austere 
master. 

The baron sat at his desk and was just finish- 
ing a letter, which he folded and sealed before 
turning to me where I stood huddling close to the 
door and fumbling my cap awkwardly. 

“Step nearer, Carl,” said he in a more friendly 
tone than I had expected. “Clara tells me you 
wish to leave Ifindesvik to try j^our fortune else- 
where. All things considered, I believe myself that 
is the best thing to do; and since you have always, 
38 


THE FAREWEEE 


39 

except for this last sad affair, proved a good boy 
and an apt scholar as well, I have no objection to 
getting a place for you or start you working at 
some trade. But you must choose for yourself.” 

After a moment’s thought, I answered deliber- 
ately: 

“Kind sir, if you will let me, I would prefer 
to go to sea.” 

He swung suddenly around in the chair, ex- 
claiming: 

“To sea!— Why so?” 

“Because,” said I, giving my cap an awkward 
twist, “I have always longed to see a bit of the 
world, and then, people who travel always get rich. 
That’s what Ole at Fish Point did. He brought 
home a lot of pretty things, and I’d like to get 
rich too, so I could buy another ring for the 
baroness.” 

“That is more easily said than done,” he re- 
sumed, regretfully. “However, I go to Gothenburg 
in a few days. Then you may go along, and I 
will see what I can do for you.” 

With a heart full of joy and gratitude I hur- 
ried away to tell the glad news to Miss Clara, who 
stod in the hallway outside, anxiously waiting. I 
knew, of course, that to her I owed my great good 


40 


THE RUBY RING 


fortune, for such I deemed my chance to get out 
into the wide world. 

But the hardest part was still left. It remained 
to impart my plans to my mother, and I had good 
reason to fear that she would not view them in the 
same rosy light. 

The ever helpful Miss Clara offered to go with 
me to plead with my mother, provided Miss Milli- 
cent would excuse her from an English recitation. 

Since that day many years have passed, but it 
still gives me real pain to recall my mother’s sorrow 
when she heard what I had determined to do, and 
why. She refused to be comforted, and it required 
our combined efforts to get her consent to my going. 
Nevertheless, when finally persuaded that it would 
be for my own good, she forgot her sorrow and 
went eagerly to work to fit me out for my first 
voyage. Many a hot tear fell upon the clothes she 
sewed for me, but meanwhile ardent prayers for the 
safety and protection of her only son were wafted 
on high. When I recall this to mind, my eyes fill 
with tears, and to this day I thank God for having 
given me a pious mother and for having heard her 
prayers. There is a weird sweetness in thus hark- 
ing back now and then to life’s springtime. 

The day of parting had come, and my little 



A gentle voice whispered my name. 


>/ jyrjfc 







THE FAREWEEE 


4 T 


blue trunk was packed. The whole family was 
gathered at the manorhouse and the great carriage 
drove up. As I held my mother’s hand in mine, I 
would gladly have changed my mind and stayed at 
home, but it was now too late. 

Miss Clara came over and took me aside. 
“Here,” said she, secretly placing a small object in 
my hand, “keep this as a memento of Lindesvik, and 
never w r orry about your mother, for Miss Millicent 
and I will take good care of her.” 

It was a bright blue purse, on which I had 
seen her at work. In the center, embroidered with 
silver thread, were the words: “Truth will Pre- 
vail.” Inside was a small sum of money, probably 
all her savings. 

I wished to thank her, but just then the baron 
ordered me to mount the driver’s seat. I barely 
had time to give my mother the farewell kiss and 
receive her blessing. 

“Happy journey!” sounded from all sides. All 
I saw that instant was my mother weeping and 
Miss Clara trying to comfort her, and that scene 
remains forever graven into my memory. 

As long as I could see them, I kept waving 
my blue, checked handkerchief, but a turn of the 


42 


THE RUBY RING 


road soon cut off the view, and the tallest pinnacle 
of the manor house disappeared. 

We had not gone far when a washout on the 
main road barred further progress, and it looked 
for a moment as though we w T ould be compelled to 
turn back, when the baron gave orders to take the 
byway, and thus on my journey out into the world 
I was forced to cross the ominous bridge. 



V. 


THE VOYAGE. 


^°/| Y first sea voyage passed off without any 
adventures, but I still remember how my 
heart sank within me when I stood watch- 
ing the wooded hills of my native place disappear 
one by one. The steamer picked her way through 
the fiords and the islands along the coast until we 
reached the city of Marstrand, where at length we 
stood out to sea. This was my first view of the 
great ocean, and methought I heard the waves 
singing to me, as to the Vikings of yore: “Away, 
away, o’er the deep blue sea!” 

After eight hours of pleasant sailing we were 
off the harbor of old Elfsborg and its ancient fort. 

The roadstead is worthy of a great maritime 
city. The year being a prosperous one, there were 

43 


44 


THE RUBY RING 


now, at the height of the sailing season, no ocean 
vessels lying at anchor but those loading or un- 
loading, or laid up for repairs at the docks. At 
the pier there were, however, many schooners and 
a few steamers ready to start. 

The baron was met by business friends, who 
accompanied him to the hotel. I got comfortable 
lodging with one of the hands on our boat, and did 
not see the baron except at stated times. 

When I called on him one day at his request, 
he told me to accompany him to Captain Ehrnberg 
of the brig Aurora, who, needing a few more 
hands, had agreed to hire me as cabin-boy. 

We went down to the quay, where the captain 
instructed me to meet him at the seamen’s mission 
the next day. 

The captain, always referred to on shipboard r.s 
the “old man,” was short, thickset, weather-beaten 
and gruff-visaged. Everything on board was polish- 
ed and shining bright. The cabin was handsomely 
furnished, and there I detected something which at 
once caught my eye, namely, a good-sized collection 
of books. 

The baron paid us a second call and held a 
long talk with the captain. Eeaving the cabin, he 


THE VOYAGE 


45 


turned to me, where I stood taking instruction from 
a sailor, and said: 

“I trust you will do well, young man. Should 
you get into trouble, you may turn to me, other- 
wise I do not wish to hear from you until you have 
shown what you are good for.” 

He turned to go, then faced about, and drew 
from his pocket a small parcel, saying: 

“This is from my daughter Clara, and here is 
a letter which was enclosed in mine.” 

I stuck to my duties until relieved, when I 
hurried back of a pile of sails and impatiently 
opened my package. It contained a copy of the 
New Testament with my name, Carl Eennartson, 
written on the fly-leaf, and under it these words 
from the Gospel according to St. John, “Ye shall 
know the truth, and the truth shall make ye free.” 
Besides the book, the parcel contained a number of 
religious tracts sent by Miss Millicent. 

The letter contained a few sincere words of 
farewell, together with an admonition to read a 
portion from the little giftbook daily. This she 
asked me never to neglect. I was also urged to 
read the tracts and to hand a copy to some comrade 
when opportunity offered. 

All this was penned in the large, clear, childish 


46 


THE RUBY RING 


handwriting of Miss Clara. Then followed a few 
faltering lines from my mother. Her words were 
so loving and tender, that the reading of them 
clouded my eyes with tears. 

“Oho, who sits here blubbering? Get out of 
the way, young fellow, or we’ 11 pitch you over- 
board!” The words were spoken by a gruff voice. 

“Stop that, Chris! ’ commanded an older sailor, 
with honest gray eyes half concealed by bush y, 
yellow brows. “The boy may have got a letter 
from his mother. It’s hard to leave home so young, 
that I know from experience, for I was only so 
high” — he held his hand a few feet above the deck 
— “when I had to leave our poor little fisherman’s 
hut; but mother said just so you fear God and do 
what’s right all will be well, whether on sea or 
land, says she, and right she was, blessed old heart, 
that I can prove.” 

“All right for you, John, but my old woman 
did’nt run to sermonizing,” Chris retorted irrever- 
ently, “and as to that I reckon you can get along 
just as well without it.” 

I had started to my feet at the first voice and 
dashed the tears from my eyes. Now I went with 
old John down into the galley, where he asked me 
what kind of a book I had been reading. When 


THE VOYAGE 


47 


he learnt that it was the New Testament, he began 
to talk kindly with me, and after that we spent 
most of our idle hours talking over its contents. 

We were bound for Hamburg. Of that city 
I remember little but this, that we had to work 
hard all the time while there. The old man was 
not given to wasting time in the ports, and he 
knew how to keep his men at work. We toiled 
incessantly from morning till night and found time 
for neither reading nor thinking. 

One of our comrades played the violin, and 
during fair weather we used to while away our 
leisure moments dancing to his polka and waltz 
tunes. Then again, he would play sweet sentiment- 
al airs, to which we would listen with rapt atten- 
tion. When he tired of playing or when the 
weather was rough, the sailors spent their time 
spinning yarns. 

Thus the time was passed, and I would have 
felt quite at ease on board, but for my suspicion 
that the baron had told the captain certain things 
reflecting on my honesty. 

In regard to money and important papers, the 
captain was rather careless, allowing one thing and 
another to lie around within easy reach. He had 
lost certain small sums time and again, so John told 


48 


THE RUBY RING 


me, and now that I was cabin-boy, he would 
naturally suspect me if it happened again, provided 
there were anything questionable in my record. He 
never said anything to me directly on that score, 
but I was never permitted to put his cabin in order, 
except under his very eyes. I complained to John, 
who explained: 

“Never mind that, my boy. Fear God and do 
what is right, then all will go well with you. This 
is only a test. ‘As silver is tested by fire and 
gold in the crucible, so the Ford tries the hearts of 
men,’ a wise man has said. He also said: ‘The 
end of a thing is better than the beginning; an 
humble spirit is better than haughtiness.’ There- 
fore, you should have patience and wait. The 
truth will be known in due time.” 

To keep on waiting was more easily said than 
done, but luckily the captain kept us so busily at 
work that I had no time to worry about the matter. 

We were down in Cagliari taking on a cargo 
of salt bound for Malmo. As soon as the captain 
had got his clearing papers from that port, a good 
stiff breeze came up, so we at once set sail. 

The next few days we had favorable winds 
and made good headway. The captain was busy 
winding up his accounts, and had been in excellent 


THE VOYAGE 


49 


humor until one day he came over to where John 
and I were engaged in repairing a sail and said 
abruptly: 

“I had a stack of Italian coins on my desk. 
They are gone. Have you taken them?” 

This angered me, and I assured him on my 
word of honor that I had not touched the money. 
But my protestations were not heeded. He searched 
my person and my trunk, and although finding 
nothing, he still seemed to suspect me, and closed 
the examination with these words: “Well, we will 
look into this again when we reach port.” 

I was driven almost to the verge of despair. 
Eife seemed scarcely worth living, now that I was 
pursued by false suspicions even on sea and among 
total strangers. I grew irritable and reticent, ex- 
posed myself to danger time and again and behaved 
so queerly that old John always kept a watchful 
eye on me. 

Chris tried to cheer me up as best he knew. 
In rough weather he would offer me a dram from 
his whiskey-bottle. Although disliking strong drink, 
I took a taste of it. Chris used to empty his 
bottle, and on such occasions grew very talkative. 
Once while tipsy he drew a gold coin from his 
pocket and asked me to change it for him. I had 


50 


THE RUBY RING 


but little money, and besides we could not agree 
on the exact value of the coin, so I took it over 
and showed it to John. 

He gave me a piercing look. “That,” said he, 
“is just the kind of coins the old man lost. How 
did you get it? Tell the truth right here!” 

I calmly told him how it was; then he took 
me to the captain, to whom I had to repeat my 
story. 

Meanwhile Chris had fallen asleep. The pocket 
book had dropped from his hand to the deck and 
opened, scattering the yellow coins about. They 
were picked up and counted, and were found to 
make the precise sum lost by the captain. From 
that moment he treated me more kindly and sought 
in every way to make good the injuries done me. 
I was now called upon to tell why I had left Find* 
esvik, and while the captain found fault with the 
curiosity that caused my trouble, he held my act 
a thoughtless misstep rather than a crime. 

As soon as we reached the Sound, a couple of 
detectives came aboard, and after we had anchored 
at Malmo, Chris was taken by them to the city. 
As he stepped down the gangplank, I handed him 
a tract. He made a motion as though he would 


THE VOYAGE 


5i 


throw it into my face, but suddenly changed his 
mind and put it into his pocket. 

From Malmo we went to Malaga to bring back 
a cargo of fruit. While in that port, the captain 
showed me a letter offering him the captaincy of 
the good ship Orion, built for the East Indian 
trade. He took a few days to consider the matter, 
and after having decided to accept, he asked me to 
go with him. India was to my mind a land of 
wonders. I thanked him for his kindness and with 
a firm handshake we sealed our agreement to stick 
together. 

Our brig lay in the roadstead ready to set sail, 
only awaiting the wind. In the meantime, we made 
occasional trips into the country around the city. 
At last a breeze came up, and we decided to hoist 
the anchor along in the day, but before starting the 
captain wanted to go ashore once more. 

While going down the ladder, he was apparent- 
ly seized with a swoon, for instead of putting his 
foot in the boat he stepped amiss and plunged into 
the water, disappearing instantly. The sea being 
rough, the oarsman was hardly able to keep the 
boat alongside. 

We waited anxiously for the captain to come 
to the surface, but he seemed to have been drawn 


52 


THE RUBY RING 


down beneath the vessel, and we dragged in vain 
for the body. 

The shipowners gave orders to the chief mate 
to take the brig home. On our way back from the 
Mediterranean I was strongly inclined to go with 
the East Indian vessel, for my young mind was 
bent on new adventures. 

However, old John’s description of Calcutta 
was not very alluring. He had gone through some 
sad experiences in a dingy hospital there, with 
Hindoo attendants, but I hoped to fare better than 
he, for to me India was the land of fair dreams of 
fortune. Whenever I thought of it, gold and 
precious jewels glittered before my mental vision. 

We now entered the Skagerack, and speeding 
before a stiff breeze we were due to pass Vinga in 
a short time. 

The Skagerack, however, was very rough, and 
heavy seas continuously broke over the deck. The 
man at the wheel had great difficulty in steering a 
true course through storm and darkness. The 
beacon-lights on shore gleamed but faintly through 
the night. Suddenly the ship struck a rock and 
became distressed. We reached the home port under 
great hardships and became involved in lawsuits 
and entanglements that almost cooled my passion 


THE VOYAGE 


53 


for seafaring. But at the sight of the good ship 
Orion my desire for the precious stones of India 
was awakened anew, and again I went to the sea- 
men’s mission to hire out as a sailor. I was accepted 
on the Orion, mainly, I believe, on the strength of 
Captain Ehrnberg’s recommendation. 

There was no time for me to go home on a 
visit to my mother, so I merely sent her a letter, 
enclosing what little money I could spare. 

In her next letter she wrote that the baron, 
with his wife and daughters, was in Stockholm. 
Herman was at Upsala, trying to graduate from 
college, and Charles Emil had managed to get a 
cadetship at the Carlberg military academy. My 
mother expressed the fear that the parents were 
not altogether pleased with their children. Miss 
Louise was enjoying a round of social pleasure, 
wrote Miss Clara, adding that she herself was con- 
sidered too young as yet to come out into society, 
and she only longed back to Lindesvik, with its 
trees and flowers and twitter of birds. 



VI. 


A NIGHT OF TERROR. 


w. Newcastle we took a cargo of coal. On 
cj ^ board was a young Englishman, residing 
in Calcutta, who was advised by his phy- 
sician to spend some time on the ocean, preferably 
on board some sailing vessel, to escape the smoke. 

When we left the English Channel at the close 
of May, we had fine summer weather on land and 
sea, but on reaching the north of Africa we en- 
countered storms with heavy showers with intervals 
of dead calm, delaying our crossing the line till the 
8th of July. I remember well the day, for, having 
never before crossed the equator, I was ducked after 
the fashion of sailors. I went safely through the 
ordeal, and as we proceeded southward toward the 
Cape of Good Hope, the most delightful weather 


54 


A NIGHT OF TERROR 


55 


prevailed. Off the Cape, however, we had heavy 
storms to contend with for three weeks, and the 
weather was cold as a Northern October. But after 
doubling the Cape, we again steered northward in- 
to a region of full summer. 

The last day of August, like the day before, 
was very fine, and especially was the sunset one of 
remarkable brilliance and beauty. 

My day’s labor done, I had sat down in a quiet 
corner to read my Bible. I turned to the Book of 
Psalms. The beautiful words of the Psalmist, so 
full of devotion and trust, regaled my soul, and his 
word painting applied so well to the majestic spec- 
tacle before me that, when I closed the book and 
saw the fiery ball of the sun sink into the ocean, 
throwing a bridge of gold across the green waves, 
methought I heard the royal singer still speaking 
to me in the voice of the sea. 

My revery was disturbed by the chief mate 
walking about the deck as if in search of some- 
thing. I asked him what he was looking for and 
received the answer that he thought there was a 
smell of gas. This is often the case on board ves- 
sels with cargoes of coal. Although knowing that, 
after the formation of gas, fire may start of itself 
among the coal, we retired to our bunks that night 


56 


THE RUBY RING 


at eight o’clock, as usual, all but the starboard 
watch. 

At twelve o’clock we were aroused, and I had 
just reached the deck when the chief mate emerged 
from his cabin in his night clothes, calling out 
“Fire!” at the top of his voice. 

The captain serenely ordered us to bring up 
water, open the hatches and get the boats clear. 
Some of the men were set to work cutting a hole 
in the deck with axes. 

In one part of the hold the fire had not yet 
started, but the dense gas exploded when it came 
in contact with the air. The impact tore up the 
deck and shattered the main mast, which fell, crush- 
ing two men. After that complete disorder pre- 
vailed, every man struggling to save his own life. 

I seized hold of the railing abaft, which was 
still intact, and clung to it a while, uncertain 
whether to die by burning or by drowning. 

My emotions while clinging there cannot be 
described. My past life passed in review before me 
with tremendous rapidity, and the thought of my 
mother’s grief w r hen she should learn of my death 
struck me with a force that well-nigh dazed me. 

The flames weirdly lit up the darkness, reveal- 
ing here and there pieces of wreckage floating on 













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A NIGHT OF TERROR 


57 


the dark waves. The captain’s voice could still be 
heard through the roar of the flames, and I saw a 
couple of dark figures moving about near him just 
before my strength failed and I lost my hold. 
Dropping to the water, I swam to a raft that had 
been slipped overboard but was still unoccupied. 
On that I thought myself safe, but I was still in a 
sad plight. With clothes soaking wet, I shivered, 
but less from the chill than from the overwrought 
state of my mind. Seizing the oars fastened to the 
raft, I rowed about among the burning or charred 
wreckage, intent on saving some of my comrades. 
In the red glare I saw several men clinging to the 
pieces of burnt or broken masts, and rowed to- 
ward them, but before I could reach them, they 
had been swallowed up by the deep. It was a fear- 
ful night, the grewsome terrors of which I can 
never forget. 

To keep warm I kept on rowing, and the ocean 
current was carrying me further and further away 
from the burning wreckage until the flames looked 
like mere sparks at the horizon, dying one by one. 

When the last gleam was quenched the dark- 
ness and solitude around me seemed more terrible 
than before. I was wet and hungry; but upon the 
nervous strain of the last hour followed a faintness 


58 


THK RUBY RING 


which made me almost insensible to my condition. 

I gazed upward at the starry sky. It seemed 
like a pall hung over my ocean grave. I looked 
in vain for any of the constellations I knew from 
boyhood. At last I spied the Southern Cross, but 
it meant nothing to me, when I thought of 
Charles’ Wain as I used to see it in the Northern 
sky. 

There was not a breath of wind, and the great 
silence was not broken by even the gentlest lapping 
of waves against the raft. I was seized with an in- 
expressible feeling of loneliness. 

But now as I recall my past experiences, I am 
thankful even for these lonely hours, for through 
the silence and the darkness I perceived the voice 
of God. The passages I had read shortly before 
from the Psalms formed the text for silent sermons 
that inspired me with new courage and filled my 
heart to overflowing, and there, alone on the vasty 
deep, I sang out my prayer and praise in the words 
of an old hymn: 

We praise Thee, Lord, who saveth 
In answer to our helpless cry, 

When faith the tempest brave th 
To come before Thy throne on high. 

Thou, at whose words the noises 
Of wind and wave are stilled, 


A NIGHT OF TERROR 


59 


O, let our hearts and voices 
With joy and peace be filled. 

Save us from sin and sorrow, 

For Thy own name the blest, 

That on the last bright morrow 
We reach the haven of sweet rest. 

In that solitary hour God seemed nearer to me 
than ever in the throngs of men, and I felt as safe 
as though I rested at his bosom instead of floating 
helplessly about on the boundless ocean. 

Step by step, I considered my past life and felt 
deep remorse over my sins, which now stood before 
me in the right light. Confessing all my misdeeds 
and failings, I prayed with fervor that the blood of 
the Lamb of God, which taketh away the sins of 
the world, might cleanse me of mine. I prayed 
long. My soul, like Jacob, struggled with the 
Lord, and he did not leave me without his blessing. 
My soul was filled with his peace. I promised, 
should it be his will to rescue me from my present 
peril, to live a better life and henceforth walk stead- 
fastly in the paths of righteousness, as in the sight 
of God. 

I regret to say that I have at times lost sight 
of this my sacred promise, but from that day on a 
peace and calm that is not of earthly origin per- 
vades my soul. In hours of distress I have often 


6o 


THE RUBY RING 


found that even if we sometimes forget the Eord, 
He keeps faith with us if we have truly given our 
hearts to Him. 

After this dawn of a new day within me, there 
followed a natural dawn without. The eastern sky 
began to glow with the light of approaching day. 
I now felt the gnawing of hunger, but worse still 
was my dreadful thirst in this watery desert. I 
was so weak that I hardly could sit upright. But 
all my pains were forgotten for the moment, when 
the morning wind began to blow, awakening the 
sleeping waves and refreshing my drooping spirits. 
The light of day inspired me with such vigor that 
I felt impelled to join in the dance of the billows. 
It brought back hope to my heart, and I strained 
my eyes to spy the faintest suggestion of smoke or 
some speck of white at the horizon, indicating the 
presence of some steamer or sailing vessel out of 
the myriads that ply the waters daily. 

Nothing came into view, and my downcast eyes 
again began to survey the bottomless grave below. 
But just as the sun rose above the waves in all his 
southern splendor, I sighted a floating object at some 
distance. I watched it closely. Might it be a boat? 
No, it was too small for that — but it might be some 
strange denizen of the deep. It rose and sank and 


A NIGHT OF TERROR 


61 


seemed to bob up and dive down below the surface 
at will. Soon I noticed something white, resembling 
a piece of canvas, fluttering in the breeze. As my 
raft glided nearer, I discovered the figure of a man. 
Supposing it to be one of the men from the wreck, 
I grasped the oars and rowed with redoubled strength 
toward the unfortunate one, whom I found to be 
our English passenger. 

The breeze had now stiffened, making the sea 
quite choppy, and I had great difficulty in rescuing 
him. The broken spar to which he clung pitched 
violently about, but we finally came so near to one 
another that he risked leaving his craft and swam 
to mine, which had ample room for both. 

We clasped hands with a feeling of great joy, 
and I thought with gratitude of the baroness who 
had permitted me to study with her own children 
and to Miss Millicent, whose drills in English en- 
abled me to converse easily with my new companion. 

He narrated his experiences in the disaster of 
the night before. At the time of the explosion he 
was alone in the fore part of the ship. He clung 
to the bowsprit until the fire reached him, when he 
dropped into the water and swam a long time be- 
fore encountering the spar on which he saved 
himself. 


62 


THE RUBY RING 


“The doctor advised me to keep on the water 
as much as possible on account of my weak eyes, 
but he could hardly have meant just this way,” he 
remarked with a grim smile, “for that would be 
rather too heroic a cure.” 

“I left my father in England, where he went 
on business. He is probably back in Calcutta by 
this time. I wonder whether I will ever see him 
again.” 

At these words a shadow flitted across his face 
and there was a slight quiver of the lips, but he 
soon regained his courage and good cheer. 

After we were two on the raft, the time passed 
more rapidly. We kept a constant lookout for some 
vessel to come to our rescue. At last we sighted a 
sail on the skyline. Breathlessly we watched the 
little white speck until it passed out of sight. 

Mocked by this illusive hope, we were brought 
to the verge of despair, for, with our strength all 
spent, it seemed impossible to live through another 
night. 

Suddenly my companion called out: 

“Took yonder! You can see better than I.” 

I turned to where he pointed and saw a faint 
streak of smoke. It grew more dense as it ap- 
proached, and a dark object hove in sight. Grad- 


A NIGHT OF TERROR 


63 


ually it took form. White sails stood out against 
the sky, funnels loomed up, and soon we could see 
the distinct outline of a great steamer coming to- 
ward us at full speed. 

Tremblings with excitement we fastened our 
handkerchiefs and mufflers to one oar, which one of 
us held aloft, while with the other we tried to pro- 
pel our raft in the direction of the vessel. We 
tried in every way to attract attention and soon 
found to our joy that we were observed from the 
steamer. She slackened her speed and then stopped. 
A boat was lowered, and with bated breath my 
comrade, Frank Clermont, and I watched the oars- 
men pulling toward us, we ourselves too exhausted 
to continue rowing. 

At last they were alongside of our raft. The 
strain was too much for me: a black pall was drawn 
before my eyes and I fell over in a swoon. 

When I awoke from my unconscious state, I 
was lying in a comfortable cabin, surrounded by 
friendly people, one of whom felt of my pulse, while 
another poured a spoonful of wine into my mouth. 

On a couch opposite lay Frank Clermont, smil- 
ing, and an elderly, somewhat portly gentleman 
stood leaning over him. 

“My dear boy, how delighted I am to see you 


64 


THE RUBY RING 


rally,” were the words in which my companion 
greeted me. “Can you imagine who was the first 
person I saw on board? Why, my own honorable 
father, who had been detained in England, the de- 
lay affording him the pleasure of fishing his own 
son out of the sea.” 

“My friend,” said the elder Mr. Clermont, 
turning to me, “Frank tells me that he owes his 
life to you. He says he was on the point of giving 
up from exhaustion when you came to his rescue. 
I thank you from my heart.” 

The venerable gentleman shook me by the hand, 
as did also his son. 

I replied in a bewildered manner to their ex- 
pressions of gratitude, for my brain was still dazed 
and I could not realize where I was or what had 
happened. 

Frank ordered food, and when I had appeased 
my hunger, it gradually grew clear to my mind 
that I was on board a British liner, bound for 
East India. 

In point of equipment the steamer was a verit- 
able floating palace. I cannot speak too highly of 
the kindness with which all, passengers and crew 
alike, treated the Swedish sailor who had so unex- 
pectedly become their guest. 


A NIGHT OF TERROR 


65 


Frank said he was jealous of the many kind- 
nesses showered upon me, and I would have been 
happy and comfortable indeed, but for my late tragic 
experiences at the burning of the “Orion” and the 
painful thought of my mother’s despair at the news 
of my having been lost at sea. 



VII. 

CALCUTTA. 

* HE time passed rapidly by, and ere long we 
were off the mouth of the Hooghly River. 
I had often heard tell of the many dangers 
of this waterway. Its muddy waters are literally 
alive with crocodiles and poisonous snakes, and the 
channel is very treacherous, requiring the services 
of welltrained native pilots on every vessel. There 
are at many points swampy shallows, and vessels 
grounding thereon are difficult to save. 

The passage up the river to Calcutta took twelve 
hours. We arrived at the mouth of the river just 
after sunrise, and this was fortunate in more than 
one sense, for nothing could be more charming than 
the beauties of India as revealed to us in a moving 
panorama on that bright sunny day. 


66 


CALCUTTA 


67 


At first, nothing but river flats, immense areas 
covered with rice fields, but the view grows more 
beautiful further inland. The shores are lined with 
gigantic tropical trees of luxuriant foliage and cov- 
ered with flowers of such rare beauty as is scarcely 
dreamed of in northern lands. The beasts and birds 
are almost as brightly colored as the flowers. In 
the shadow of the giant trees stand phantastic sacred 
shrines and temples, with broad white marble stairs 
leading down to the sacred river, for the Hooghly 
is a part of the Ganges delta system. 

A more pleasant time for a visit to India than 
the month of September I cannot imagine. As be- 
fore, on the Indian Ocean, our meals were served 
on deck. 

During the voyage I had seen some Hindoo 
passengers, but I had been so engrossed with my 
own meditations and the attentions of the Clermonts 
that I took little notice of them, and not until I 
reached their native country did I begin to study 
the appearance and habits of the Hindoos, the Sin- 
galese, the Talmuls and the other divisions of their 
race. 

As I stood on the deck watching the white- 
robed people on the shores, some with red or yellow 
sashes over their white garments, I noticed that a 


68 


THE RUBY RING 


number of the passengers were similarly dressed, 
but what surprised me most was the lines in differ- 
ent colors painted on their dark faces, varying with 
the person. 

Mr. Clermont came over to me, and I questioned 
him in regard to this custom. He replied that each 
man was in the habit of wearing on his face the 
sign of the god he worshiped. 

For the first time I stood face to face with 
heathenism. I contemplated it with sadness, a feel- 
ing that grew on me as I listened to Mr. Clermont, 
who explained that of the three hundred millions of 
people in India only a very small number were 
Christians, and that the form of Christianity most 
commonly embraced by them was Catholicism. 

I fell to pondering these things so gravely that 
I hardly heard Mr. Clermont when he asked me 
whether I still desired to follow the sea or if I 
would rather take a position in his office. 

One of the Hindoos wore in his turban a splen- 
did ruby, on which my eyes were riveted. Turning 
frum that to Mr. Clermont, I replied that seafaring 
had lost all charm for me. I told him what had 
led to my becoming a sailor, namely, my youthful 
ambition to secure wealth in a short time, adding 
that on the contrary I had become poorer than ever 


CALCUTTA 


69 


and had no way of getting back home except as a 
sailor on some home-bound British vessel. 

Mr. Clermont gave me the comforting assurance 
that I had many friends on board who were willing 
to give aid, but stated that he especially would 
provide for me. 

“Besides,” said he, “you write a good hand 
and speak English quite readily. You seem to have 
had a better education than we are accustomed to 
find among sailors. Wouldn’t you like to take a 
position in my office here in Calcutta. Frank has a 
high opinion of you and would like to see you stay 
with us. For my own part, I look upon you as 
one sent by Providence to save the life of my son, 
and in order to repay my debt of gratitude, I will 
do all that I can to promote your welfare. I like 
you for your own sake, Mr. Eennartson, believing 
you to be an honest and upright young man and 
worthy of my confidence.” 

Bowing politely, I accepted so honorable and 
generous an offer. 

We stood talking together for some little while. 
It was about six o’clock and the sun nearly down. 
We were now nearing the city and viewed with 
admiration the splendid palace of the former king 
of Ouide. Mr. Clermont pointed out Fort William, 


7 o 


THE RUBY RING 


the British stronghold, beneath whose bristling guns 
lay the quay known as Garden Beach. 

It was no easy matter for our large ocean liner 
to pick her way among the great mass of vessels 
from every part of the globe, that lay moored or 
anchored all over the harbor. Having finally reached 
her docks, the landing stage was thrown out, and 
we stepped ashore. 

Just at that moment the sun went down. Soon 
lanterns began blinking on all sides, the lights of 
the city shone brightly, and over all the full moon 
shed a flood of beautiful white light. 

A large number of Hindoo servants were down 
to meet the passengers, some dressed in white, with 
a red scarf across their shirt bosoms, gold lace on 
their breasts, and white turbans; others in bluish- 
gray caftans, red jackets and many-colored turbans, 
but all in gold braid and with fingers and toes 
decked with rings. Some of these dark-hued gen- 
tlemen wore large beards, others dainty little mous- 
tachios. 

They greeted the Europeans with extreme 
courtesy, placing one hand on the breast and bow- 
ing gracefully, after which they hurried away to 
take charge of the luggage of their respective mas- 
ters, but disdained to carry it ashore. To per- 


CALCUTTA 


7i 


form that task they called in a number of coolies, 
a gang of husky, half-naked fellows employed for 
menial labor. 

The elder Clermont having had his baggage 
landed — his son and myself possessed nothing but 
what we wore on our persons — the three of us en- 
tered a waiting carriage. Two of the liveried at- 
tendants stood behind, and with the no less gaily 
dressed driver in front we were driven along the 
beautiful esplanade. 

All Calcutta seemed to be out enjoying them- 
selves this charming evening. We met gentlemen 
riding fine Arabian horses, and ladies, old and young 
alike, attired in the lightest and daintiest of fabrics, 
driven in carriages, all with coachmen and lackeys 
in gaudy livery. 

The buildings, which looked like marble palaces, 
had flat roofs and were surrounded by elegant co- 
lonnades. They lay imbedded in rich foliage and 
a wealth of flowers. 

When we reached the luxurious Clermont man- 
sion, I was shown up a couple of flights of stairs 
to my room. 

This adjoined a balcony, enclosed by Persian 
blinds, by means of which the sun could be com- 
pletely shut out. The room was high and airy and 


72 


THE RUBY RING 


was furnished in bamboo and cane throughout, 
with a bath in connection. The bed had an elastic 
cane bottom and was provided with a screen of 
white lawn to keep the mosquitoes out. 

At half past seven the gong sounded. On ship- 
board I had learned what that signal meant. I was 
ready in a moment, having no change of clothes, 
and at the next signal I went down to the sitting- 
room. 

Frank introduced me to his mother, a middle- 
aged lady, whose features bore evidence of a long 
term of residence in the hot climate of India. In 
her face was a suggestion of weariness, induced by 
indifference and leisure rather than exertion. This 
disappeared, however, when she greeted me as the 
rescuer of her son, and she afterwards showed me 
much kindness. 

Her daughter Amy was of my age, about nine- 
teen years. Tike all children of European parents 
living in India, she had been educated in Europe, 
and had returned to Calcutta just a year before. 
She was a pretty girl, tall and slender, with fair 
complexion and blonde hair. Her laughter was sil- 
very, and from the first she treated me with the 
arch frankness of a sister. 

Over the tables there were punkas, such as I 


CALCUTTA 


73 


had seen in the dining room on the steamer, that 
is, large fans, consisting of canvas stretched on 
frames, suspended by rods from the ceiling and set 
in motion by the servants outside by means of 
chords running in pulleys. 

These punkas, found everywhere in India, create 
an air current strong enough to disarrange one’s 
hair. The coolness was delightful, the dining hall 
brightly lit up, the meal delicious, and all would 
have been highly enjoyable, except for a great swarm 
of pesky green flies, which buzzed incessantly about 
our ears and plates. 

The table fairly groaned under the weight oi 
Indian fancy courses, among which the luscious 
tropical fruits were most tempting to me, but at 
Mrs. Clermont’s warning I at first indulged my 
appetite very sparingly. 

When we retired for the night, Frank asked 
me to go riding with him the next morning. 

“That is,’’ he added, “provided you care to 
rise before the sun.’’ 

Horseback riding was one of my favorite sports 
at Lindesvik, where I was often permitted to ride 
out with the young barons, at a respectful distance 
behind them, of course. Now there was to be an 
end to this classification halfway between companion 


74 


THE RUBY RING 


and servant, and I was to see a glimpse of India 
side by side with a friend. 

The September night was most delightful, and 
no warmer than an average summer night in the 
North. Fully rested, I stood on the front portico 
at four in the morning, waiting for Frank, while 
watching the gaily appareled stableboys leading forth 
the blooded Arab steeds. Frank now came out, and 
bestriding the noble animals, we rode down to the 
river. 

From the temples marble stairs led down to the 
water’s edge. Up and down the stairways at this 
early hour passed multitudes of Hindoos, men and 
women, come to cleanse themselves from sin by 
bathing in the sacred river. Some were just going 
into the water, while others, who had finished their 
bath, were returning to the temple. 

I thought with sadness of all these people, who 
knew not the only true and living God, and yet I 
could not but admire their peculiar worship, for 
they, especially the women, entered into the rites 
with a solemn devotion and selfdenial that would 
put many so-called Christians to shame. 

The Hindoo women of high caste are generally 
veiled, the Mohammedan, always. In consequence, 
we saw very little of their faces, but judging from 


CALCUTTA 


75 


their figures, they were mostly of fine appearance. 

On the river bank they skillfully and without 
exposure changed their wet robes for dry garments. 
Even the veils were exchanged so quickly and dex- 
terously that their faces were not uncovered for an 
instant. 

The men, upon emerging from the water, were 
met by barbers, who attended to their hair, mouth 
and ears, after which men with brushes and paints 
marked their faces with the sign of each man’s par- 
ticular god or goddess. 

From the bathing beach we rode on to another 
part of the riverbank, the place where the dead are 
cremated. Here we saw living beings tied securely 
to bamboo poles, lying very near the water’s edge. 
These pitiable creatures, sick and dying, were in 
many cases, according to Frank’s story, wealthy 
men and women, whose heirs would have them 
brought down here so that, if they showed signs of 
improving health, life might readily be choked out 
with sacred mud from the river. Then the bodies 
are burned, but not completely reduced to ashes, 
there being a scarcity of fuel for all the thousands 
who die daily in this hotbed of cholera and fevers. 
The half-charred corpses are thrown into the river, 
on whose banks crocodiles and buzzards feast on 


7 6 


THE RUBY RING 


the remains. The buzzards, here called adjutants, 
are seen in multitudes on the roofs of the temples 
along the river and in all the streets, where these 
large birds walk around like domestic fowls, undis- 
turbed by processions, passing vehicles and all the 
noise and hubbub of the thoroughfares. 

We took a cross cut through the black city, 
which fairly swarms with people. Here live rich 
baboos in sumptuous houses with brightly painted 
porches and balconies, alongside of paupers in adobe 
huts and squalid bamboo shelters. 

The most remarkable marble temples are here 
to be seen, and from the pagodas and minarets there 
glittered in the rising sun rubies, turquoises and 
other precious stones, while the marble walls were 
bright with curious mosaics of many-colored stones, 
inlaid in the form of flowers, leaves and tendrils, 
works of art which often excited my admiration. 

Riding, driving or carried in palankeens, all 
were bound for home. The dusky coolies in their 
scant attire, consisting of a piece of cotton cloth 
about the hips, were perspiring copiously as they 
trotted along with their covered boxes, in which 
sat some highborn native lady, who thus caged had 
been taking her morning promenade. Close behind 
comes another similar box, preceded by attendants 


CALCUTTA 


77 


in light-colored clothes and carrying silver staffs. 
This box was open at the sides, revealing a dark 
man in white attire, reclining on a mattress. 

“That’s a wealthy banker,” Frank informed 

me. 

“But what’s this?” 

Right in the sun hideous looking men stood 
here and there along the way, knotted and twisted 
into awkward and most uncomfortable attitudes. 

“They are fakirs,” said he, “a kind of saints, 
who by self-torture bring themselves into a trance.” 

We urged our horses so as to get quickly 
through the black city with its anything but agree- 
able atmosphere. Soon we found ourselves beneath 
the shade of the great trees whose dense foliage 
shelters a large part of the English city, or the 
white quarters. 

It was now after six o’clock and the heat of 
day was growing oppressive. We returned home 
and retired to our rooms, where not a ray of sun- 
light penetrated, and reclined on elastic couches for 
a short nap, fanned by the punkas, which were 
constantly in motion. 

After a couple of hours of rest and the morn- 
ing bath we went down to breakfast. The elder 


78 


THE RUBY RING 


Mr. Clermont then ordered his palankeen and was 
carried to the office. 

Frank and I were carried to various shops, 
where I was outwardly transformed into a perfect 
Hindoo gentleman. 

I was to wait a few days before taking up my 
duties at the office, so we returned home after mak- 
ing our purchases. We lounged around in airy and 
comfortable cane chairs, with our feet on the rests 
provided for the purpose. In this position I gained 
at my leisure further knowledge of the new country 
from my talkative and well-informed companion. 

Frank spoke eagerly of the tiger hunts up in 
the mountain passes. 

“And monkeys,” said he, “why, the woods are 
full of them, to say nothing of pretty birds.” 

I asked about the many poisonous reptiles, but 
was at once put at ease on that point. He said 
there were only five or six dangerous varieties of 
serpents, and these seldom found their way into the 
city. 

“But scorpions you have to look out for,” he 
added. “Turn your shoes upside down and shake 
them every morning before putting them on. And 
as for insects — just look here!” 

As he removed some papers lying on a table, 


CALCUTTA 


79 


bugs, roaches and all sorts of creeping things came 
to view. Among them were the dreaded white ants, 
which destroy woodwork, furniture and clothing. 

Miss Amy came in to us, attired in gauzy 
white. In the darkened room she seemed like a 
spirit, but her sweet chatter and merry laughter 
proved her a very real and charming creature. 

She suggested that we lazybones come into the 
salon or reception room, where I might get some 
idea of social life in India. 

When the footsteps of the palankeen carriers 
next resounded in the corridors and a gentleman 
caller was announced, we went in. 

The room was so dark that I could not see the 
hostess; but her soft voice, inquiring the name of 
the visitor, betrayed her presence. 

The Hindoo servant pronounced the name as 
best he could, leaving out vowels and making up 
for it by adding consonants. 

The visitor was cordially received and asked to 
be seated in an oriental chair. Next to him Amy 
took her place, her fingers busy crocheting with a 
needle of carved ivory. 

The conversation lagged at first, until Frank 
began telling of our adventure at sea, when all grew 
very much interested. Afterwards I learned that 


8o 


THE RUBY RING 


such stories of adventure were so highly relished in 
India that they are passed along from palace to 
bungalow, until the first narrator cannot recognize 
them. Those who are not compelled to work, and 
especially the women of the wealthy classes, have a 
dreary time of it and are given to melancholia and 
spleen. They have not the strength to read, paint 
or play music while in such a frame of mind, and 
often other maladies result from the oppressiveness 
of the climate. 

When I heard this, I could understand why the 
guest, upon leaving, confessed to having been very 
much relaxed by his visit, evidently by listening to 
our tragic story of the shipwreck. 



VIII. 



A DEMON. 

HEN on the next day I entered the recep- 
tion room, attired in the customary dress 
of the country, including a white jacket 
and a red sash around the waist, in lieu of a vest, 
I found two strangers there. 

One was a lady, still beautiful, though no longer 
young. Her name was Zuleima Norton. 

Her appearance at once betrayed her Hindoo 
origin. Her complexion was brown, the eyebrows 
black and arched, the eyes very dark, with an occa- 
sional flash as of lightning in the night. Again, 
there w r ould be a sharp and treacherous glitter in 
her look, as in the eyes of serpents whose sting 
means death. 

In her black hair, which was tastefully arranged, 
jeweled pins glittered. Her figure was of charming 


81 


S2 


THE RUBY RING 


proportions, and she knew the art of dressing well. 
Gentle and refined in manner, she was a welcome 
and frequent guest in the Clermont home. 

This was only natural, for her son, Mr. Richard 
Norton, was Mr. Clermont’s right hand man and 
the head of his great business office. Knowing that 
I would soon have him to deal with, I at once 
sought to form an opinion of him. 

He was a young man of fine figure, not very 
tall, his face and small, well-shaped hands indicat- 
ing his Hindoo blood, but his hair and eyes were 
of a lighter hue than those of his mother. By de- 
grees I discovered that he had inherited the snake- 
like and revengeful nature of his mother. 

The dinner was splendid. In the course of the 
evening Mr. Norton gave me an insight into the 
commercial life of India. Being altogether ignorant 
of business conditions in Europe, I could make no 
comparisons, but when I took my place in the office 
the next morning I could understand that there 
must be an enormous difference. 

Eike most buildings in India, the Clermont of- 
fices were surrounded by broad piazzas, shutting out 
the sun. In every room punkas were kept in mo- 
tion, and turbaned Hindoos, dressed in white, 


A DEMON 


83 


swarmed everywhere. In the warehouses these and 
the half-naked coolies made a motley mass. 

In the outer offices the Hindoo bookkeepers 
were at work. Sitting on their heels, with their 
legs folded under them, they looked like so many 
strange birds. On the floor beside them were bills 
and money-bags, account books and writing materi- 
als. In writing they steadied the book against one 
knee. The account books, therefore, were made 
quite small. In the banking houses there were sim- 
ilar scenes. One had to pick one’s way among 
stacks of gold. 

The inner office was arranged in European 
fashion, yet with reference to climatic conditions. 
Frank’s chair was usually vacant, and I soon gath- 
ered that it was at the instance of Richard Norton 
the parents had sent him to sea and allowed him 
to drift aimlessly about. 

That Norton’s influence with the parents had 
been impaired by the events of the latest voyage I 
was convinced while inadvertently overhearing a 
conversation between the two men. It was carried 
on in an adjoining office room, and I recall very 
distinctly what was said. How it started I do not 
know, but these were the words of Mr. Norton: 

“ That might do very well for me, who 


8 4 


THE RUBY RING 


owe so much to your parents and who depend on 
my own efforts for getting on in the world, but as 
for you, my friend, it is of first importance that 
you regain your health, which must have suffered 
in the shipwreck. It tells on you. Your face is 
paler and your eyes look very much weaker, and 
that is not to be wondered at. This climate is not 
for you Englishmen. You must try to get away 
again. And however much I dislike to have you 
leave us, I realize that when your well-being or 
perhaps your life is at stake, I ought to sacrifice 
my own interests.” 

“I thank you,” said Frank, “but I feel very 
well. It is true, the climate is trying, and there- 
fore it is well to get away from here now and 
then, but after Carl Eennartson came, I have a 
very pleasant time. He is a fine boy, alert and 
openhearted. I wish I had his qualities.” 

“Yes; I understand.” Norton changed his tone. 
“It is to his interest to make himself agreeable to 
your family. The other day I heard him tell his 
life story to your sister Amy, and it was very ro- 
mantic, indeed. But that about the ruby ring I 
could not swallow.” 

“How you speak!” Frank exclaimed. “I have 
also heard the whole story, and I cannot believe 


A DEMON 


85 


that a young man with his honest eye and frank 
nature would lie about it. What puzzles me, though, 
is that he has been here several months without 
getting one letter from home. I know he has writ- 
ten several times.” 

‘‘Yes, that’s the trouble. If his story were 
true, his letters certainly would be answered. His 
mother is living, and he may have had word from 
her, but probably he does not wish to reveal the 
contents of her letters. I have a mind to find out.” 

With these words Norton left, and I again 
turned to my bookkeeping, a work which continued 
to absorb all my powers, unaccustomed as I was 
both to business in general and to the English com- 
mercial terms. I had no time to reflect on what 
the two men had said until the lunch hour came, 
but as I reclined in my palankeen on my way home 
I had to admit that Mr. Norton was right. 

I had written several times to my mother, but 
received no reply. This gave me much worry and 
I had brought my troubles to God in prayer. I 
was not only alarmed about my mother, but the 
lack of communication with Miss Clara also gave 
me great concern. The presence of Miss Amy re- 
freshed her image in my mind daily, and I was 


86 


THE RUBY RING 


often seized with an inexpressible longing for my 
loved ones at home. 

When no letters came, I decided to follow the 
baron’s advice not to write until I had earned some- 
thing and thereby shown what I could do. After 
that I would not write, but go home directly. 
Would my mother live to see that day? I felt al- 
most sure she would and w T as happy in the thought 
of supporting her in her old age. 

My fancy was building a new cottage for her 
while I was being carried by the coolies along fine 
avenues of palms, tamarinds and mango trees. The 
northern pines and forest flowers were almost for- 
gotten in the intoxicating fragrance of the tropical 
flora. 

And then the ring. Here one’s thoughts easily 
ran to precious stones. As soon as I had saved up 
as much as needed I would buy rubies and dia- 
monds the like of which my friends in Sweden had 
never seen. 

With these pleasant thoughts I returned daily 
to my task, but when the heat grew too oppressive 
and drops of perspiration soiled the books before 
me, I envied Frank, who sat smoking in a com- 
fortable reclining chair on the cool piazza. 

We were together as much as my duties would 


A DEMON 


87 


permit, and from him I learnt all about affairs out- 
side of the business office. One day I asked him 
about Mrs. Norton, and he told me her story, as 
follows: 

“During one of the raids made against the Se- 
poys some thirty years ago, Captain Norton and 
his brave little troop one day upon their return 
from the frontier found themselves in a dense trop- 
ical forest. You haven’t yet seen such a one, but 
you will some day. Well, you have seen banyan 
trees, so common here in Bengal. Imagine a whole 
jungle of them, with their aerial roots forming im- 
penetrable barriers. Captain Norton and his men 
had got into such a forest and were riding hither 
and thither to find their way out, meanwhile ap- 
proaching the Ganges. 

“I11 the shadow of bamboos, great, dense man- 
goes and tamarinds, all draped with luxuriant droop- 
ing vines and climbers, were little shrines, mausole- 
ums erected to the sutti ...” 

“What are they?” 

“So they call the widows who mount the fu- 
neral pyres of their dead husbands.” 

After a moment’s silence Frank proceeded: 

“Finding a better road there, and more shade, 


88 


THE RUBY RING 


the troopers followed the river not far from the 
bank. 

“At a distance they heard music, which grew 
louder and louder. There was a clang of cymbals, 
a blast of horns and a beating of tomtoms. The 
horsemen reined in their horses for a moment, and 
a young officer called Captain Norton’s attention to 
a pillar of smoke rising high in the calm, clear air. 

“The captain and his men gave their horses 
the spurs and soon reached a clearing in the woods, 
where a multitude of Hindoo men and women were 
assembled around a burning pyre. Through the 
flames could be seen a charred object — the corpse. 

“A young and beautiful woman, dressed in a 
mantle of snowy whiteness, was walking slowly 
around the pyre. It was apparently the surviving 
widow, who, after encircling the pile three times, 
mumbling prayers, was to enter the flames. She 
looked cheerful, and the music was by no means 
needed for the purpose of drowning her cries of 
agony. The object was merely to prevent the by- 
standers from hearing her last words. 

“She was about to set her foot on the nearest 
fagot. That instant Captain Norton reached her 
side. 

“ ‘Who dares to break the law which prohibits 


A DEMON 


89 


sutti?’ he shouted, swinging his sword over the 
heads of the natives. Seeing the troop approaching 
with drawn sabres, the Hindoos fled pell mell and 
the music ceased. The young widow fell in a swoon. 
The captain ordered her brought to the nearest 
English station and tenderly cared for. He himself 
remained on the spot till the pyre was burnt out, 
when he had the half-consumed body thrown into 
the river, according to custom. 

The beautiful widow, wdiose name was Zuleima, 
was taken sick on the way to the station, but re- 
covered under proper care. By accepting British 
protection she had lost her high caste, that of the 
Brahmins, and dared not return to her own people, 
but remained with an English family, where she 
embraced Christianity, learnt the English language 
and adopted English customs. At the close of the 
campaign she became the wife of her rescuer, Cap- 
tain Norton.” 

Having seen a little of Hindoo customs but not 
knowing much of the characteristics of the people, 
I wondered how she had liked her position as the 
wife of an Englishman. That Frank could not say, 
only that her husband had been killed in the battle 
of Sobraon and that among his papers was a sealed 
letter, addressed to Mr. Clermont, wherein Captain 


90 


THE RUBY RING 


Norton requested him, his only relative, to care for 
his wife and child. 

“My father/’ continued Frank, “fulfilled the 
request and invited Mrs. Norton and her son to come 
to Calcutta. When Richard showed no desire to 
join the army, my father brought him up for a 
business career, and now, as you know, he is man- 
ager of the office.’’ 


□P 

□P 

□P 

BP 

BP 

BP 

□ID 

□ID 

□ID 

□O 




IX. 

THE TIGER HUNT. 

* NE day in January, about a year after my 
coming to Calcutta, Frank came to the office 
and told me that Rajah Jamsetjee Framjee, 
a business friend of his father’s, had sent an invi- 
tation to take part in a great tiger hunt up in the 
mountains. 

Mr. Clermont was not in favor of the affair, 
but Mr. Norton had insisted that we both should go. 

“Just think of it,” said Frank, “he spoke for 
you too, although he never seems to think he gets 
enough work out of you.” 

“Oh, really!” I exclaimed in surprise. 

“Yes,” continued Frank, “he said there was 
little to do at present, and, besides, it would be 
good for the young men to see a bit of the country. 


9i 


92 


THE RUBY RING 


My father was finally won over, and tomorrow we 
start.” 

When I stood ready to mount my horse the 
next morning, Norton came to me and said: 

“I don’t know how good a shot you are, Mr. 
Eennartson. If you are not a fair marksman, this 
might turn out badly enough, but that you may be 
well prepared, I will put a trusty weapon in your 
hands Here, take my own rifle! That you may 
depend upon.” 

Again pleasantly surprised at his kindliness to- 
ward me, I thanked him heartily, and we started 
on our way. 

We had a pleasant trip to the point in the 
mountains where the hunting party was to meet. 
Several chiefs of high rank were to take part. This 
put me in a position to see much oriental finery. 
Many of the party carried silvermounted pistols in 
their belts, and most of them were provided with 
double-barreled English rifles. The horses were 
richly caparisoned, the softly cushioned saddles were 
highly ornamented and the saddle-blankets were of 
blue and crimson felt or velvet, embroidered in gold 
and silver. 

My spirits were never lighter than on the morn- 
ing of the hunt, when, freed from an arduous task 


THE TIGER HUNT 


93 


little suited to my inclinations, I found myself out 
in the open, one of a gay party in search of pleas- 
ure and adventure. 

The party started out before daylight. In the 
gray dawn we could see the fog covering the valleys 
below. Then the eastern sky began to redden, re- 
flecting its rosy glow on the scattering mists. The 
mountains above were wrapped in clouds, and the 
trees of the forest, tall palms, dense teaks and tama- 
rinds covered with bright-colored parasites, were still 
one dark mass. The sun came with a suddenness 
unknown to northerners. In a few moments the 
sky was all afire, the cloud-caps were torn from 
the mountain-peaks and in the valleys the fog gave 
way to the warm waves of air, heavy with perfume. 
The heavy dewdrops on leaves and flowers were 
turned to sparkling diamonds before being absorbed 
by the sun’s rays and the dewy beads caught in 
the webs of the spider shone like opals. 

No song-birds greeted the coming of day, but 
humming-birds fluttered about and parrots in many 
colors and multitudes of monkeys enlivened the 
woodlands, while the bronze-colored turtledoves cooed 
unseen. 

Frank was spying eagerly among the under- 
brush for the striped prey, and every man among 


94 


THE RUBY RING 


us kept a sharp lookout for the king of the jungle. 
We saw wild peacocks parading proudly on the 
green, but hardly expected to encounter any tiger 
until we reached some stream or lake. 

Now the glitter of water showed among the 
trees in the distance. It was a small lake surrounded 
by tall trees and a dense canebrake of bamboo — a 
favorite haunt of the royal Bengal. 

The rajah gave orders to his trumpeters to start 
the music. The other musicians joined in, and with 
the blare of a full Hindoo band and an occasional 
pistol shot we rode down toward the water. Our 
horses showed signs of excitement and fright as we 
approached the lake. They were therefore left in 
the hands of the attendants, while the rest of our 
party entered the jungle afoot, still keeping up the 
din of music and pistol shots. 

Rockets were fired into the air and firecrackers 
and squibs thrown into the brakes and tall grass. 
Our hearts beat violently as we look for the prey 
to spring from hiding. The Hindoo gentlemen ad- 
vised us to remain calm. A line was formed along 
the shore, and none too early, for just then a tiger, 
frightened by a squib that had set the grass on fire, 
started from his lair and rushed out into the open. 

Frank leveled his rifle and fired. The wounded 


THE TIGER HUNT 


95 


beast rushed at him. Being the nearest man, I 
pointed my weapon straight at the heart of the 
tiger and pulled the trigger. The rifle missed fire, 
and in an instant the animal sprang upon me and 
knocked me to the ground. 

With one hand I tried to protect the back of 
my neck, where I felt sharp claws entering the 
flesh. Just then I heard a shot, which laid the 
brute low. 

As I raised myself, I felt the blood stream from 
the wound. With his handkerchief Frank stopped 
the flow until the attending physician of the rajah 
applied proper bandages. 

So great had been the loss of blood that I was 
disabled from taking further part in the hunt. I 
was therefore brought back to where the horses and 
part of the attendants were left. There I was 
placed in a tent and well cared for, but I soon grew 
so feverish I knew not where I was. I heard the 
music in the distance, saw the liveried and turbaned 
Hindoo servants moving about and could distinguish 
the chatter of monkeys and the call of the peacocks 
outside. 

Just before sunset the hunters returned laden 
with the day’s booty. Frank had shot a fine sped- 


96 


THE RUBY RING 


men of the royal Bengal, but his concern for me 
did much to spoil his pleasure. 

A return to Calcutta in my present condition 
being out of the question, the rajah invited our 
party to remain as his guests until I should get 
better. 

It was difficult for me to mount my horse that 
evening, but the cool night air, soothing as the 
breeze of springtime in my native land, refreshed 
me wonderfully. 

The forest was in places very dense, and flow- 
ering shrubs and vines sometimes threatened to bar 
further progress, but we pushed on through the 
darkness, which was lit up by brilliant fire-flies 
where the dark foliage shut out the moonlight. 

At last the marble palace of the rajah gleamed 
among the trees. We rode into a splendid court- 
yard, where we were surrounded by half a score of 
dusky attendants, part of the life guard of the 
rajah. 

They carried me up to a sleeping room furnished 
with all the luxury that an English gentleman might 
desire, and placed me on a cool and comfortable bed. 

I spent a bad night, however, with a new at- 
tack of fever. It kept me for days hovering between 
life and death. Frank never for a moment left my 



.aim: 


fill- 


If 

y 

II 

i 


A stroke of his paw threw me to the ground. 






































































































THE TIGER HUNT 


97 


bedside. Not until the fever left me and I required 
perfect quiet would he consent to go out of the 
sickroom. 

He was then shown about the palace by our 
host, the rajah. It was a large building with a 
double tier of colonnades running all around it, and 
floors and staircases of polished white marble. As 
soon as I was strong enough to listen, he gave me 
a vivid description of all that he had seen, many 
details of which I still remember. The various 
rooms were decorated and furnished in European 
style. There were fine tables, chandeliers, pianos 
and large mirrors. There were great hall clocks and 
table clocks with art groups in bronze and a clock 
with little honey-birds that fluttered out and in when 
it struck the hours. On the walls were costly paint- 
ings; some Oriental, executed with all the minute- 
ness of the artists of the East; but there were also 
several works by the Italian masters, including a 
picture of the Madonna surrounded by angels. 

Books were not lacking. Earge cases were 
filled with works in expensive bindings and on the 
library tables were found the finest editions of such 
writers as Scott, Byron and even Burns. 

The rajah had shown displeasure when Frank 
had failed to fall into raptures over all these Euro- 


9 8 


THF RUBY RING 


pean luxuries. However, when he was brought into 
a hall furnished in the finest Oriental style, he had 
expressed his astonishment to the great satisfaction 
of his host. He had admired the costly rugs of 
exquisite fabrics, the luxurious couches and cushions 
scattered about, and had spoken in high praise of 
the princely taste of the rajah and his family, as 
here shown. 

In the palace garden there was a zoo, contain- 
ing many wild animals in captivity. They were 
not caged, but moved about at will in large en- 
closures. 

With great pleasure Frank had watched the 
children at play in the garden. There were several 
pretty little girls, constantly attended by turbaned 
male guardians, for no native woman is permitted 
to show herself. The rooms, or zenanas, of the 
children were in a separate part of the palace. 

As soon as I was able to be about, we returned 
to Calcutta. The trip was trying and wearisome 
to me, while Frank was jubilant over his success 
and proud of the prey he brought back with him 
to the city. 

At my request we went straight to the office, 
where we were met by the elder Clermont and Mr. 
Norton. The former gave his son a fond embrace, 


THE TIGER HUNT 


99 


then he turned to me with clouded brow. My 
bandaged arm and pale face disarmed him, and in- 
stead of giving me the lecture I expected, he ex- 
claimed in astonishment:] 

“What? — An accident!” 

Before I could reply, Frank had vividly described 
our adventure, whereupon Mr. Clermont resumed 
his kind and fatherly tone. 

“I always said to Norton” — he urged me to 
take his own comfortable chair — “that Mr. Eennart- 
son would show good cause for remaining away so 
long, and I am glad I was right.” 

“I thank you, Mr. Clermont,” said I, respect- 
fully. “Now that I think of it, Mr. Norton,” said 
I, turning to him, “I wish to return your rifle.” 

Frank sent an attendant for it. 

“As you have heard,” I continued, “it came 
near making an end of us. It was only by the 
help of God that we were saved. Will you kindly 
examine the gun yourself.” 

Turning quite pale, he took the weapon and 
looked at it carefully. 

“That is peculiar,” he said finally, looking me 
straight in the eye, “the gun was perfect when I 
gave it to you, and now it is already out of order. 


IOO 


THE RUBY RING 


Why, it was entirely new, I hadn’t even had time 
to test it.” 

“How then, could you know it was perfect?” 
interposed Frank. 

“So the gunsmith (he gave his name) assured 
me, so it must have got out of order on the way.” 

“Impossible! For it was in the care of my at- 
tendant, and was never once taken from its case. 
Isn’t that so, William?” 

“Yes, sir, I can testify to that.” 

Mr. Clermont looked at his watch. The dinner 
hour was not yet at hand, nevertheless he ordered 
his palankeen. I was given a place in it, while 
Frank rode horseback, and thus we proceeded home. 
Frank was received with cheers, and after he had 
repeated the story of our adventure, I received the 
kindest attention. 

It was a delightful evening that we passed on 
the airy piazza, surrounded by orchids in bloom. 
All seemed happy but Norton, who appeared to be 
planning revenge, but fortunately for him the moon- 
light did not fall on his gloomy features to betray 
his sullen expression. Where he sat, his face was 
in the shadow and could not be studied by any one 
but me. 



THE CARAVAN. 

* IME passed, day by day, month by month, 
until I could count my residence in India 
by years. I was now experienced in the 
business, and several deals in which I was consulted 
had turned out well. 

Norton and his mother had grown more friendly 
toward me, possibly on account of his designs on 
Miss Clermont’s heart. Mrs. Norton favored the 
match, and did everything to bring it about, but 
all her labor was lost. 

Miss Amy always preferred the company of her 
brother and myself to that of Norton. She often 
walked with us, but never with him, and preferred 
the books we gave her to those imported by him at 
quite an expense. If he brought her a bouquet of 
the rarest flowers, they would soon lie scattered in 


IOI 


102 


THK RUBY RING 


the garden outside of her lattice. His presence 
stilled her merry laughter, and if he entered a 
room where she and Mrs. Clermont were, Miss Amy 
would shrink back behind her mother as if in fear 
of the man. In a word, she very plainly showed 
dislike to him, while treating me as a brother. I 
noticed how this irritated him and how hard it was 
for him to retain the mask of friendship he had 
adopted toward me. 

Mrs. Norton called oftener than ever, and I 
could see how she used every art to wheedle herself 
into the good graces of Mrs. Clermont. Apparently 
she succeeded, for relations between the members of 
the family became strained, and with sorrow I often 
noticed traces of tears about Miss Amy’s eyes. 

One day, while the rest of the family were en- 
joying their siesta, Mr. Clermont and I walked 
back and forth along the shady colonnade, engrossed 
in conversation about business matters. He suddenly 
stopped and said: 

“I have a plan which I have often thought of 
carrying out, that is, to send a caravan with rare 
articles of commerce up to Gaurisankar and through 
that district. I am sure the goods would find a 
ready sale, or what do you say?” 


THE CARAVAN 


103 


I agreed, provided the right person was placed 
in charge. 

“Of course,” said he; “we must send a man 
who can be fully trusted. He must have courage 
and good sense, for it is a risky venture. The road 
is unsafe, the people up there are fretting and I 
am told organized bands of robbers are at large. 
The caravan must therefore be large and well- 
armed, and led by a brave man. I have asked Mr. 
Norton to take charge, but he suggested you 
in his stead.” 

“Did he?” 

Mr. Clermont proceeded: 

“Yes, he says his health is not the best and 
he could not stand the strain, while you are hale 
and strong and used to hardships from boyhood. 
He thinks you the right man for the task.” 

I was silent. 

“You do not answer, Mr. Eennartson ?” 

I signified my readiness to obey his commands. 

“This, my dear Mr. Lennartson, is not a 
question of obeying orders.” He spoke warmly 
and earnestly. “This undertaking can be carried 
out only by a man who has the will and the cour- 
age to do it.” 

“Such a trip as you propose would interest me 


104 


THE RUBY RING 


very much,” said I. “Since you, Mr. Clermont, 
are kind enough to trust me, I will try. And I 
assure you I will do all in my power to merit your 
good opinion of me.” 

“Very well, my boy; I only wish Frank had 
your ability to work and took the same interest in 
the work. This enterprise, if it turns out well, will 
be partly to your own advantage, for you shall have 
a share in the profits, and furthermore, upon your 
safe return your salary will be increased. I have 
thought of this for a long time, but Mr. Norton. . ” 

“You are very kind, Mr. Clermont,” I inter- 
rupted, “but ...” I hesitated, doubtful whether 
to speak my full mind. 

“Don’t be afraid of speaking out,” he urged, 
and I took courage to say: 

“Mr. Clermont, do not misunderstand me when 
I say that Mr. Norton is not a man to be fully 
relied upon.” 

“Not a word about that,” he flared up. “Not 
one word, sir, if you wish to have my confidence 
and good will.” 

In the absence of proofs, I could say nothing 
more. And evidence against so shrewd a man as 
Mr. Norton was not easy to get. It astonished me 
to find that Mr. and Mrs. Clermont, intelligent and 


THE CARAVAN 


105 


clearsighted as they were in all other matters, al- 
lowed themselves to be led blindly by a scoundrel 
like Norton. None of the office employees or at- 
tendants could tolerate him, and I well knew that 
he would have got me out of the house, like many 
faithful employees before me, but for the fact that 
I had twice saved Frank Clermont’s life. 

Perceiving that I could do nothing to expose 
the man, I left the matter to God, confiding in His 
power to undo the plottings of my enemy, and bus- 
ied myself with preparations for the journey. 

These were on a large scale. A vast amount 
of costly goods had to be carried by boat up the 
Hooghly river, then on the backs of camels and 
elephants far into the mountain regions. A number 
of business men who had commercial interests in 
those parts, together with many tourists who trav- 
eled for their pleasure or for scientific purposes, 
joined our caravan. 

It thus grew so large and was so well equipped 
that there was little danger of attack. We had an 
escort of brownish -yellow Hindoos who wore white 
turbans and tucked sashes. Besides, we had inter- 
preters, salesmen, carriers and other attendants. 

On the morning of the start, the whole Clermont 
family was down to see US off, and all gave me 


io6 


THE RUBY RING 


their best advice and wished us a happy journey. 
I shook hands cordially with all in turn, but no 
one pressed my hand with such eagerness and os- 
tentation as did Mrs. Norton. But I thought I saw 
in her eyes that which belied the smile on her lips 
and her profuse well-wishes. She stood near Miss 
Amy, who had Richard Norton close by her side. 

“With such a caravan and with so many peo- 
ple to guard it, only a coward would fear an at- 
tack,” he remarked with scorn. “In fact, I would 
not know what to do with such a crowd.” 

“Won’t you be so kind as to lend me your gun 
once more?” I demanded in an ironical tone. “Per- 
haps it would serve me better this time.” 

He gave me a withering glance. There was a 
gleam of infernal hatred in his eye, but before he 
could reply, Frank drew me aside. 

“I am ashamed,” said he, “to stand here like 
an idler and see you go. My place should have 
been at the head of this expedition, but you have 
earned my father’s confidence better than I. Some 
day I hope to follow your example, to go to work 
and make a man of myself. Goodbye, and remem- 
ber, if ill luck befalls you, it will break my heart.” 

“Thank you, Frank, thank you!” As we 
clasped one another’s hands with a brotherly grip, 


THK CARAVAN 


107 


I expressed the sincere hope that he would keep 
his word and man himself for the serious duties of 
life — and a splendid man he w r ould be. “But keep 
an eye on Norton,” I added, warningly. 

“Tut, tut, have a care! On that point we shall 
never agree, and what is worse, Carl, I fear you 
have already poisoned the mind of my little sister, 
for as to Norton she will not take reason, though 
he is as fine a fellow as I have ever known.” 

“Time will show who is right, you or I. I 
have thought it my duty to warn you. Meanwhile, 
be kind and fair to your sister, and comfort her 
— if troubles come.” 

“I don’t know what you mean? I had hoped 
we would part as the best of friends, and now you 
spring this disagreeable subject on me the last 
thing.” 

“Yes — the best of friends, now and always,” 
said I giving his hand a last hearty shake. 

Miss Amy came over to us. I counseled her 
to trust in God, and He would be an ever present 
help. 

She thanked me with tears in her eyes. I 
stepped on board, the gangplank was pulled in, 
and the boat started. 

The merchandise was loaded on barges towed 


io8 


THE RUBY RING 


by cables in the wake of the steamer. The goods 
were guarded by the armed escort. Having reached 
the point where the Hooghly river joins the Ganges, 
we loaded the merchandise on camels while the 
party mounted elephants. Climbing a short ladder 
one entered a small coupe on the back of the ani- 
mal, and rode as in the cabin of a tossing launch. 
The “pilot” sat perched back of the animal’s head. 
A number of our party preferred, however, to travel 
in palankeens, carried by coolies. 

The route was a picturesque one, passing through 
dense forests interwoven with tropical climbers of 
every variety. These lianas twined themselves cu- 
riously around the trunks of the trees and some 
hung straight as canes from the upper limbs. Often 
the tree had been choked to death by the parasites, 
which still thrived luxuriantly, forming thick jun- 
gles in the air. Tigers and wild elephants roamed 
these forests and found refuge in the inaccessible 
fastnesses of the mountain gorges and valleys. 

We used to start our day’s journey while the 
mists still hung about the peaks of the Himalayas. 
I was charmed with the grandeur of the sunrise as 
it gilded the mountain summits, dispersed the fog 
and called forth again the splendor and fragrance 
of the bright- blossomed rhododendrons. 


THE CARAVAN 


109 


Fortunately, we all got safe and sound through 
the unhealthy region that separates upper and lower 
India, a region so perilous to life that a line of 
forts along the British border could afford no better 
protection against Mongolian inroads. 

The higher up we traveled, the finer the cli- 
mate. The nights were cool as a mild midwinter- 
day in Sweden. The mornings were like a spring 
day, but at midday the sun w T as scorching. 

The scenery changed as we drew near to Nepal. 
At last, after many a weary day’s travel, we reached 
Katmandoo, the capital city, where I was well re- 
ceived by the sovereign, who was an ally of the 
British. 

The Nepalese are a mixed race. They are ugly, 
but strong and industrious. The men wore white 
jackets and pantaloons and small white caps on 
close-cropped heads, and a ferocious dagger, dangling 
in a black scabbard, completed each man’s accoutre- 
ment. 

The women wore conspicuous nose ornaments. 
Besides a gold pin, or rather spike, stuck through 
one wing of the nose, designating their married 
state, they wore a gold plate, about two inches 
square and set with turquoises, hanging from the 
nose so as to cover the mouth. Their children they 


IIO 


THE RUBY RING 


carry in little cradles on their backs. Often an en- 
tire family might be seen squatting around their 
place of business, which consisted of a piece of car- 
pet spread on the ground, on which their modest 
wares were displayed. 

The manners and customs of the people on this 
frontier of Thibet are greatly influenced by the 
Chinese. Much oriental luxury is in evidence, and 
our merchandise was in great demand. 

In the palace of the ruler there was the largest 
and costliest collection of precious stones that I have 
ever seen. In Katmandoo I purchased a splendid 
ruby and a number of small diamonds. I placed 
them in the little purse given me by Miss Clara, 
and as I looked on the embroidered words, “Truth 
Will Prevail, ” I thought with grateful heart of 
God’s providence in guiding me far into Asia, to 
the base of the highest mountains in the world, in 
order that I might some day be able to clear myself 
of a false charge. 

That evening before retiring I read, as usual, 
a few passages from my little volume of the New 
Testament. Between the sacred leaves I preserved 
the faded letters of my mother. In far away Nepal 
I read them through once more and my fancy fled 
from amid the glories of the Orient back to the 
low-thatched cottage of my birth. 



XI. 

THE STORM. 

« AVING disposed of our goods with fair profit, 
we started on our way homeward. Our 
beasts of burden were now heavily laden 
with costly silks and satins, shawls, muslins, gold 
and silverware, precious gems and quantities of 
other merchandise, besides a large sum of money in 
gold and silver coin. 

The tourists of our party had all left us. Only 
one, a German scientist, who had pursued botanical 
studies in these parts, accompanied us on our way 
home. He was about my age, and having once 
visited Sweden, he and I had many things to talk 
about. 

“As soon as I can, I am going back home” — 
that was my standing resolution, and now that I 
repeated it in talking with him, it brought back an 


hi 


1 1 2 


THE RUBY RING 


overwhelming longing for but a breath of air from 
Swedish fields and pinewoods, for the day was hot 
and parching, and not a leaf stirred in the great 
forest through which we were passing. 

All of a sudden a breeze sprang up. “Fine!” 
says I, leaning my head out of the palankeen to 
cool my brow. Then I discovered black, threaten- 
ing clouds drawing rapidly near. 

The wind subsided and for a while the heat 
felt doubly oppressive, until the hurricane broke. 
The tornado crashed through the forest, trees cent- 
uries old snapped or were torn up by the roots, 
sand, gravel and small boulders were whirled into 
the air, leaves, flowers and vegetation swept away. 
A few moments of this, and the black cloud opened 
up with its batteries of lightning and thunder. With 
the howl of the winds mingled the agonized wail 
of beasts and birds, and the panicky trumpeting of 
our elephants. 

Guided by the echoes of the thunder, we found 
some cliffs near by, where our caravan sought shel- 
ter in caves and overhanging rocks. The rain came 
down in torrents, and I was glad to have the goods 
under cover, or everything would have been drenched 
through and through. 

I myself was soaked to the skin. The rain was 


THE STORM 


113 


mixed with hail, and a sudden fall of temperature 
set us shivering with cold. But the sky soon cleared. 
We now discovered that the storm had dispersed 
the caravan, part of which had disappeared. We 
remained where we were for a short rest, and, as I 
was unwilling to leave the animals, left it to the 
others to look us up. 

As soon as the storm had fully subsided, we 
proceeded on our way, wet, cold and downcast. We 
soon struck a wide road running through the thick 
of the forest, and there found a couple of our miss- 
ing animals, but the palankeens of our missing com- 
rades were nowhere to be seen. 

A shot was heard. I supposed it was our 
friends signaling their return, but the next instant 
there was a second and a third report. A man fell 
and one of our elephants was wounded. At full 
speed the animal tore through brush and brake, trum- 
peting wildly as he ran. The ropes which held his 
pack in place gave way and several attendants hast- 
ened to save the scattered valuables. 

When I tried to get out of my palankeen, I 
found myself surrounded by dark-skinned, dusky- 
eyed bandits. 

My companion, the young German botanist, 


THE RUBY RING 


i*4 

was instantly dragged from his palankeen, killed 
and trampled under foot. 

It was my turn next. 

“Down with the Englishman!” shouted one of 
the barbarian outlaws, flourishing his sabre over 
my head. 

“He is no Englishman,” retorted my faithful 
Hindoo servant, who a moment before had pulled 
off my hat and clapped his own turban on my 
head. 

“Let him live, then!” roared another voice. 

I was dragged from my palankeen, blindfolded 
and had my hands tied behind my back, whereupon 
I was knocked down with a force that stunned me. 
How long I lay unconscious I cannot say. Partly 
regaining my senses, I opened my eyes and felt the 
sensation of being hurled through space, while myr- 
iads of stars danced before me. Then I closed my 
eyes and lapsed again into unconsciousness. 

When I woke up, the cloth had been removed 
from my eyes, my hands were free, and I found 
myself lying on a rug in an underground cavern, 
whose dark passages were lit up at intervals by 
flaming torches. When I tried to rise, I felt rack- 
ing pains throughout my body, while my brain 
threatened to burst the skull and my temples pounded 


THE STORM 


”5 

violently. The blood coursed through my veins like 
liquid fire and I realized my situation as in a fever- 
ish dream. 

By the light of the torches I discovered dark 
figures, whose hideous visages almost frightened me. 
Others came dragging or carrying bales and packs 
which I thought I recognized as our property. As 
I made another attempt to rise, one of the men 
came over and examined me in the glare of a torch, 
muttering harsh sounds in Hindostanee which I did 
not understand, but they sounded like a dire threat. 

The robbers left me where I lay and paid little 
attention to me, all except an old man with a white 
beard which contrasted oddly with his dark skin. 
He brought me food now and then or poured a few 
drops of water over my parched lips. 

I found that the bandits spoke a dialect of the 
Hindoo tongue heard mostly at Calcutta. From 
hearing the servants speak, I had picked up the 
rudiments of the language. My attendant gave me 
further instruction, leading me to believe that my 
life had been spared that I might serve the robber 
band as an interpreter. 

My captors were a wild and grim lot. When 
they were gathered around the fire of an evening, 
I thought of what an opportunity this would have 


1 16 


THE RUBY RING 


given some artist from my native land to paint from 
life the most picturesque and dramatic scenes imag- 
inable. 

Their black, sparkling ayes, their gaudy appa- 
rel and the glint of their long daggers as they 
carved the red meat and roasted at the fire great 
hunks spitted on the points of the weapons, would 
have made a picture of splendid effect. 

But however picturesque the scene in the rob- 
bers’ cave, it could not divert my thoughts from 
my probable fate, did I not soon find some way of 
escape from my prison. The outlook seemed hope- 
less. At times all the bandits left me, and as soon 
as I was strong enough to crawl about, although as 
yet too weak to stand on my legs, I seized such 
opportunities to explore the gloomy abode. 

It seemed to consist of a number of caves, con- 
nected by artificial tunnels and occupied only at 
certain periods by human beings, for in some the 
ceilings were decorated with stalactites, indicating 
that nature had been left to her own devices. 

Several of the caves were used as stables. In 
some were fine Arabian horses, in others, which 
were open at the top, elephants and camels were 
confined. Among them I thought I recognized the 
animals of our own caravan. The darkest caverns 


THE STORM 


it; 

were used as store rooms, where immense quantities 
of stolen goods were hidden. The caves occupied 
by the bandits themselves were fairly well lighted 
and ventilated by means of narrow fissures in the 
ceilings, not large enough to allow a man to crawl 
through. 

Of course, there must be some other opening, 
by which the bandits went in and out, but I could 
not find it. When the fever left me and I was so 
far restored that my legs would carry me, my guard 
never left me for an instant. 

I was on the verge of despair, for whatever 
plans of flight I might devise, they were undone by 
the watchfulness of the bandits. At last I became 
resigned to my fate and left all to the Eord. Then 
I grew calm and confident. 

New hope sprang up in my soul when, one night, 
I learnt that a raid was to take place the next day. 
The bandits seemed to consult together whether 
to take me along. I pretended to sleep so as not 
to arouse their suspicion that I was listening. As 
they all talked at once, I caught very little of what 
was said. At times the confab grew so heated 
that the chief jumped to his feet and sought to re- 
store order by striking mighty blows with his sword 
on the slab that served as a table. At length all 


THE RUBY RING 


1 18 

beakers were drained and lights out. Every one 
dozed off where he sat and I also fell asleep. 

When I woke up next morning the cave was 
empty. The bandits were gone and not a weapon 
was left. I sat up quickly and saw, to my dismay, 
a gigantic robber crouching near me and eyeing me 
scornfully. 

“Ah, you thought you were alone, did you; 
but there you were mistaken. Tie down, you Christ- 
ian dog!” 

Shocked and in sore disappointment, I lay down 
again. After lying motionless for a while, I begged 
for a drink from a large jug that was standing be- 
hind the rock used for a table. I knew it did not 
contain water, and as soon as the Hindoo discov- 
ered that it was wine, he took a good swig. And 
every time I repeated my demand for water, he 
took a new pull at the jug. When his eyes began 
to grow hazy, I sat up and looked around. 

A flood of light coming from the adjoining 
cave led me to infer that the entrance, usually 
closed, was to be found there. My guard glared at 
me once again, this time with eyes heavier than 
before, then fell into a heavy sleep, his loud snores 
resounding through the cave. 

My time to act had come. I rose to my feet 


THE STORM 


119 


and with a coil of rope, on which I had rested my 
head, I formed a running noose and placed it loosely 
around the sleeping bandit’s neck, making fast the 
other end to an iron ring in the wall, in such a 
manner that a sudden jerk would choke him. Then 
I moved cautiously toward the point whence the 
light came. 

The rock that usually closed the entrance was 
rolled away. The bandits evidently had been in 
too great a hurry to put it back. I knew that the 
stable was in the adjoining cave. Fearing that all 
the horses would be gone, I looked in and found 
to my great joy that one was left, saddled and 
bridled, probably for the use of my guard. As 
quickly and gently as possible I led the animal out 
of the cave, after having tucked a bundle of hay 
under my arm. Climbing into the saddle, I whipped 
up the horse and rode at full speed through the 
forest, now and then dropping a wisp of hay. 

Reaching a point were the woods thinned a 
little, I thought I heard human voices not far away. 
Supposing the party to be the returning bandits, I 
quickly hid behind a dense thicket, from which I 
myself had a good view. I could see a wide road 
and high mountains in the distance — indeed, it was 
the main route of the caravans, the way I had twice 


120 


THE RUBY RING 


passed. Motionless I stood back of the vines that 
completely hid me and the horse from view, listen- 
ing closely for further sounds. 

Soon I heard the quick tread of horses’ hoofs 
and the familiar sound of a moving caravan. From 
behind a clump of trees it hove in sight. The sa- 
bres flashed in the sun, the turbans shone — it was 
a splendid caravan, carrying costly goods and treas- 
ures. Now was the time to act. At full gallop I 
rushed to the head of the caravan. 

“Stop!” I shouted. “The robbers are lying in 
wait.” 

Tike an electric shock the news sped along the 
line. In an instant every man seized his rifle, and 
with hands on the triggers and sabres half-sheathed 
the caravan moved cautiously on. 

Suddenly a shot sounded, and at the signal the 
robber band rushed forward. The attack was bravely 
met. Some of the outlaws were killed outright, the 
others were taken captive, the leader himself after 
a fierce resistance. 

During the struggle I saw the chief of the 
band unbuckle his belt and throw it into the shrub- 
bery. I took notice of the spot and afterwards found 
the belt, which I hid carefully. 

Guided by the wisps of hay, we found our way 



A great caravan came in sight, 



THE STORM 


1 2 1 


to the cave. My guard, the burly Hindoo, awoke 
as we entered and had some trouble in getting rid 
of his uncomfortable necktie. He succeeded in get- 
ting his head out of the noose, but only to be made 
prisoner. 

In the different chambers of the cave I found 
all the merchandise taken from our caravan and 
much valuable goods besides. The camels and ele- 
phants also were ours. A number of the men of 
the caravan I had forewarned helped me pack the 
goods on the backs of the animals, while the rest 
of the caravan camped near the road. 

We were soon ready, and with heart overflow- 
ing with gratitude for God’s providence, I joined 
the caravan and brought all the merchandise safely 
home under its protection. 



XII. 



A DISCOVERY. 

BOUT sundown one evening we sighted the 
w ^ te P a ^ aces °f Calcutta. In the city the 
^ 1 inhabitants thronged around us, the crowd 
growing denser as we neared the Clermont office. 
The employees were closing for the day, but when 
they saw me they all hurried to meet me. 

The members of my expedition, who had re- 
turned before me, were sent for and with the aid 
of the bills of lading they had brought home, the 
merchandise was unpacked and stored. 

I myself hastened to the Clermont mansion, 
where I found the entire family, together with the 
Nortons, gathered in the sittingroom. 

Every one stared at me, as though I had risen 
from the grave. No one uttered a word. In their 
faces I read consternation instead of pleasant sur- 


122 


A DISCOVERY 


123 


prise. This was especially true of Richard Norton. 
He drew back as if stung by a viper, and his olive- 
colored face grew still paler. 

The only person who seemed pleased at my 
coming was Miss Amy, but she was dumbfounded 
like the others. The first person to speak was 
Frank, who, after staring at me for a moment, 
threw his arms about me and welcomed me warmly. 

“Is it really you!” he exclaimed. “At last we 
shall hear the truth about this sad affair.” 

“Yes; now we shall hear the full truth,” Amy 
repeated. 

“How so?” I asked. “Didn’t they tell you 
the caravan was attacked by robbers who killed 
several men and carried me off captive? That I 
ever reached home is a miracle to me.” 

“A miracle, indeed,” Norton murmured. 

“No,” said Mr. Clermont, “all we know is, 
that most of our people came back safely, but with 
the loss of all the merchandise and not knowing 
what became of it.” 

“Why, we were separated during the storm, 
and as I would not risk leaving the pack animals, 
we left it to the others to look us up. It was then 
we were attacked by the bandits, and being too few 


124 


THE RUBY RING 


to defend ourselves, we were overpowered and capt- 
ured,” I explained. 

“Can you prove that?” Norton asked with a 
sneer. 

“Yes, sir; if you doubt my word, you shall 
have the proofs in due time.” 

I told the full story of my adventures, omit- 
ting, however, the fact that the outlaw’s were my 
prisoners. Finding that I could explain everything, 
Norton pretended to be satisfied, and, excusing 
themselves with an engagement elsewhere, Norton 
and his mother took hurried leave. 

Their going cleared the atmosphere, and the 
Clermonts now showed me greater friendliness than 
ever. 

“The goods from Katmandoo,” said I, turning 
to Mr. Clermont, “are now being put away in your 
store rooms, as you can see for yourself. And I 
hope, sir, you will find everything all right. But 
there is more serious business to attend to.” 

“What’s that?” queried all the Clermonts in 
alarm. 

“Well, the robbers w r ere caught, leader and all, 
and brought here. They were with the caravan 
whose protection I enjoyed on m) r way home, and 
are now lodged in prison. So w r e have a trial on 


A DISCOVERY 


125 


our hands in a few days, and as I have every rea- 
son to suspect Mrs. Norton of complicity in the 
robbery plot, I must ask your permission to have her 
placed under surveillance at once.” 

“But are you sure of that?” 

“Yes; absolutely. I will prove it in court.” 

“Well, hurry then!” 


XIII. 

THE TRIAL. 

VjlVHK day set for the trial had come. When 
c/xY we reached the building where the court 
^ was to be held, the street outside was 
packed with humanity, and up the wide stairs 
streamed Englishmen and Hindoos anxious to wit- 
ness the proceedings. 

The judge sat in a high seat, over which were 
the arms of Great Britain, draped with crimson. 
Around a table sat the court officers, and at the 
bar stood the bandits and their chief, the latter be- 
ing taller than any of the others. 

He was a man of proud bearing, and to the 
question of the court who he was, he replied 
haughtily: 

“I am a Sepoy of nobler blood than any other 
man in this room.” 


126 


THE TRIAL 


127 


So saying, he cast a glance full of hatred and 
vengeance over the assembled Englishmen. At all 
succeeding questions he preserved a dogged silence. 

When the attempt to establish his identity thus 
failed, I handed to the judge the belt I had seen 
him throw away. 

“Is this your cumber bund ?” asked the judge. 

He nodded assent. 

I now requested the interpreters to read the 
letters found hidden in the lining of the belt. 

He translated the letters. According to Hindoo 
custom, they were tied with silken chords, but one 
having been sealed. This was written in a dainty, 
womanly hand, and the writer informed her “dear 
relative” that a British caravan, carrying a large 
supply of costly merchandise, was about to pass 
through the forest where he and his men were in 
hiding. The writer further said that the blonde 
young man in charge of the expedition (my appear- 
ance was minutely described) must be put out of 
the way at all hazards. She warned the leader 
against letting him escape, adding that he deserved 
no better fate than death, being one of the hated 
race which was depriving the Sepoys of their native 
soil, a rightful heritage from their fathers. The 
letter was signed, “Zuleima.” 


128 


THE RUBY RING 


“Does any one present know this handwriting?” 
asked the judge. 

Mr. Clermont and his son examined the letter. 

“Yes,” said the elder gentleman painfully, “it 
is Mrs. Norton’s hand.” 

The judge ordered her brought in, but he was 
informed that neither she nor her son could be 
found, although they had been kept under surveil- 
lance. 

A murmur passed through the courtroom. 

The present servants and employees of the 
house of Clermont wished nothing better than that 
the Nortons might be found and summarily pun- 
ished. Richard Norton, however, was never heard 
of again. Mrs. Norton, on the other hand, was 
taken captive during the subsequent Sepoy revolt. 
The British commander, suspecting her of being a 
Hindoo princess, who incited her followers to awful 
cruelties to the Englishmen, kept her as a hostage 
until she took her own life while in prison 

When nothing was to be learned from either 
of the two principals, the robber chief and Mrs. 
Norton, the judge turned to the least guilty of the 
prisoners, the old man of the cave who had shown 
me kindness. 

He testified that the leader of the bandits had 


the: trial 


129 


been a Brahmin and chief of his tribe. He was a 
brother of Mrs. Norton’s first husband and had fled 
before the conquering British armies. His sister- 
in-law had been keeping in touch with him even 
after her marriage to the Englishman, Mr. Norton, 
and she had informed him of the movements of our 
caravan and other British mercantile expeditions as 
well. She had, in fact, aided the robbers in a 
number of raids on the hated Europeans. 

A few days later the verdict was pronounced. 
In pursuance thereof the robber chief was shot. 
The haughty outlaw remained calm to the last, and 
died with his heart full of bitterness toward the 
British race. 

With deep feeling we left the court room. I 
thanked God that the truth had come to light, but 
it still pained me to think that an innocent man 
had died on my account at the time of the attack. 
While I had been described as a blonde, the German 
botanist who was with me had a still lighter com- 
plexion than mine. Besides, I had been very much 
tanned during the trip, and, furthermore, the Ger- 
man wore a straw hat similar to the one my serv- 
ant replaced with a turban at the last moment. 

The memory of the kind and agreeable scientist 


30 


THE RUBY RING 


still remains fresh in my mind and my heart bleeds 
even yet at the thought of his sad fate. 

Richard Norton had now been shown up as a 
plotter and a rascal. Fully convinced of his nefar- 
ious dealings and the utter worthlessness of the 
man he had hitherto trusted implicitly, Frank that 
very night resolved to lead a useful life and take a 
hand in the business himself. 

Mr. and Mrs. Clermont were almost heartbrok- 
en. The noble minded old merchant was so affected 
by the disclosures that he was unable to attend to 
business for several days. 

Frank, on the other hand, was extremely active 
and industrious. It became my privilege to initiate 
him into every detail of the extensive business. 
When that was done, he went to his father with a 
request that he be made a partner in the firm. The 
elder Clermont, however, preferred to retire from 
active business life, so Frank and I formed a part- 
nership and conducted the business with marked 
success for several years. 

But while I was growing prosperous as an East 
India merchant, my longing for the old fatherland 
and for the loved ones left behind grew uncontroll- 
able. My chief concern was how to arrange my 
affairs so that I could return home, yet strong bonds 


THE TRIAL, 


13 1 

of friendship fettered me and I was unable to leave 
Calcutta. 

Mr. Clermont’s health declined, and he grew 
weaker daily. A life of inactivity did not agree 
with him, and grief over the faithlessness of the 
man he had trusted above all others had crippled 
his ambition. 

From the moment we first met, he had been 
like a father to me, and after I became a member 
of the firm he regarded me as his eldest son, fre- 
quently admonishing me to give Frank every assist- 
ance. 

The sisterly Miss Amy was engaged to Sir Ed- 
ward Forrester, the judge who presided at the trial 
of the Sepoy bandits. Their acquaintance was 
formed during the progress of the case, and as he was 
a worthy man we all heartily endorsed the union. 

Miss Amy would not permit me to leave Cal- 
cutta before attending her wedding, “for,” said she, 
jestingly, “you are the man who made the match.” 

On her wedding day she gave me a pretty sou- 
venir of our pleasant associations — a portfolio of 
costly workmanship, bearing in enamel and jewels 
the legend, “ Truth Will Prevail .” 

Shortly after the wedding Mr. Clermont was 


132 


THE RUBY RING 


confined to the sickbed and not many weeks later I 
stood at the grave of my noble benefactor. 

Frank was now so familiar with the ins and 
outs of the business as to manage it for himself. 
So I sold my interest at a fair price and bade him 
farewell in order to return to my native North. 



XIV. 

MY FATHERLAND. 

STOOD on the bridge as the steamer ap- 
proached Vinga, the rocky isle just outside of 
^ Gothenburg, and I shall never forget how my 
heart throbbed when, after eight long years, I saw 
again the rockbound shores of my native land. 

Compared with the opulence of India, my own 
country seems barren indeed, and yet the little cot- 
tages surrounded by greening fields had a charm 
for me greater than Oriental palaces and tropical 
gardens. I was intoxicated with the very air. 
There is a dreamlike beauty, a sense of joyous an- 
ticipation, about the springtide in northern lands 
never met with elsewhere in the world. It thrills 
one with rapture sweeter than words can express. 

All was as I had seen it on my first voyage 
out in the world. There was old Elfsborg with its 


133 



134 


THE RUBY RING 


ancient square tower, and there the New Wharf, 
like an oasis amidst the barren gray cliffs. The 
vessel steamed along the shore and we passed close 
to the outer works of the old fort, near which the 
great Carnegie factories are now located. I sur- 
veyed the establishment until my eye stopped at a 
little newly built chapel, founded on the solid rock. 

At Cliff Station the customs officials came on 
board, and as the great British steamers did not at 
this time run all the way in, we had to be taken 
ashore in boats. 

At the first opportunity, I hustled my baggage 
into one of the boats that met us and told the oars- 
man to take me ashore without delay. As he nod- 
ded, I thought I recognized the face. The deep-set 
gray eyes and the bushy red whiskers brought back 
distinct recollections of some one I could not name 
until a man shouted: 

“Took out, Chris, you’re getting too close to 
her!” 

If he was my old comrade, he had changed 
quite a good deal for the better, which at first I 
could not believe. 

‘‘Chris — is that your name?” I inquired. 

‘‘Yes, sir.” 


MY FATHERLAND 


i35 


“Did you ever sail on the brig ‘Aurora,’ Cap- 
tain Ehrnberg?” 

“Why do you ask that, sir?’’ he queried in 
turn, as if nettled by the question. 

“Because then you must have known Carl Len- 
nar tson, the cabin boy.’’ 

“Yes, and thank God for it. If it hadn’t been 
for him I wouldn’t be earning my daily bread today. 
Nor would I have bread for my immortal soul. He 
went down with the ‘Orion,’ poor boy! The good 
ship ‘Orion’ that burned at sea some years ago, you 
remember.’’ 

“Yes, I know; I was an intimate friend of Carl 
Lennartson. That makes me interested in your story 
too. If you don’t mind, I’d like to know what be- 
came of you after you two parted company.’’ 

“Glad to tell you, sir,’’ said he. “The Lord has 
done such great things with me that I never get 
tired of talking about it. You may have heard, sir, 
that I was put in jail. And that was not more’n 
right, for I was a tough one. But then nobody 
ever showed me the right way. Well, prison life 
got pretty tiresome.” 

“But the prisoners had to work, didn’t they?” 

“Sure we did. Worked hard all day. I was 
in the Varberg prison, and we were never out of 


136 


THK RUBY RING 


work there, let me tell you. They kept their eye 
on us every minute of the day, but when night 
came and we were sent to the lockup — Oh, what a 
time! We were all in one big room and I tell you 
it was awful the way they carried on. Having tried 
it myself, I want to say that it is ruinous to herd 
people that way — ruinous to body and soul. And I 
want to thank the king for trying to make it a bit 
more tolerable for the poor prisoners. But there’s 
nothing like freedom, after all. When ye’re locked 
up, time’s pretty long, and one Sunday, to kill an 
hour or two, I hauled out a little tract that that 
boy Uennartson gave me when we parted. I glanced 
at it and read these words: ‘I am the way, the 
truth and the life.’ ‘Come unto me all ye that la- 
bor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest,’ 
and, ‘If any man thirst, let him come unto me and 
drink.’ These words gave me no peace of mind day 
or night. When I asked the warden for a Bible, 
the other prisoners laughed at me, but I kept on 
reading, and when the chaplain came and preached 
to us now and then I thought he was talking to 
me and to nobody else. After I had been reading 
some, I began to try to pray. It was hard at first, 
for such a sinner as I was, I didn’t dare to come 
before the Uord. So one day I read about the rob- 


MY FATHERLAND 


137 


ber on the cross. Then it was just like the Eord 
telling me, too, to come into paradise with Him. 
That made me so happy, I couldn’t keep from talk- 
ing about the Eord to the other prisoners. Curses 
was all the thanks I got for it, and many a dark 
hour did I pass through before I was let out. 

“I’ll remember as long as I live how glad I 
was when I left the pen and started out to look for 
work. But I found soon enough how hard it is for 
an ex-convict to get a job. Nobody wants a jailbird 
to work for him, and for a while it looked like I’d 
have to steal for a living or starve to death. Then 
I remembered that passage in the Bible: ‘Ask, and 
it shall be given to you.’ And so I prayed that 
the Lord would find me something to do. I walked 
around a couple of days, ready to give up hope, 
when John came. You remember old John on the 
brig. Well, he helped me get this here boat, but 
after all, it is the poor boy I have to thank for 
what I’ve got.’’ 

I was deeply moved by the story told by Chris 
and thanked God that I had been the means of 
converting that once ungodly sailor. 

“But,” he continued after a moment’s silence, 
“since you were a friend of Carl Eennartson, I don’t 


I3» 


THE RUBY RING 


mind telling you what pleases me most is to take 
care of his pious old mother.” 

“My mother! — What? — Is she in want?” — I 
gasped. 

The oarsman stared at me. 

“You are not Carl Eennartson, are you?” 

“Yes, my friend, so I am. Tell me at once 
how you happened to meet my mother.” 

“Well, the ways of the Eord are past finding 
out. The pious old lady, God bless her, lives with 
me in a little shanty, and her son has come to be 
such a fine young gentleman.” 

I smiled and asked him to take me straightway 
to her. 

“But I want to tell you, sir, that it is nothing 
but an old tumbledown shack up in the hills.” 

“Then we will land at the ballast pier. That’s 
the nearest way.” 

Upon landing, Chris called a boy to watch my 
baggage while we were gone. 

On our way up the hills he told me about the 
Gyllenfeldts. While they were in Stockholm, one 
winter, the superintendent of the estate, who wanted 
the cottage occupied by my mother for another ten- 
ant, a relative of his, had her put. out of house 
and home on some pretext or other. She then 


MY FATHERLAND 


i39 


sought refuge with a relative in Gothenburg, who 
was one of the crew of the ‘Orion.’ When Chris 
mentioned his name, I remembered him well. So 
when my mother reached his house, she learned 
from his children, who were motherless, that their 
father had lost his life at the burning of the ship. 

“You can imagine how she felt,’’ Chris went 
on. “She didn’t know where to turn. At last she 
went back to the pier, thinking some boat might 
take her back to the country free of charge. I was 
taking out emigrants that day and landed at the 
stairs to get more passengers. Then I caught sight 
of your mother, and the minute I set eyes on her 
I thought of Charlie, the cabin boy — you, sir, for 
you look so much like her. I asked her why she was 
crying, and when she told me her story, I said I 
knew her boy on board the ‘Aurora,’ and if she 
didn’t have a home, she was welcome to come and 
stay at my place. So she did, and the Lord has 
blessed our work, hers and mine, so w T e’ve got 
along. She does sewing and knitting, and earns 
enough to afford a room all by herself. She’s just 
like a mother to me, and keeps house and tends to 
everything at home. Every penny I give to her 
for safekeeping, and there isn’t a corner in my 
heart she doesn’t know. She chides me and com- 


140 


THK RUBY RING 


forts me off and on, and it’s all for my own good. 
— Here we are.” 

Pressing his hand gratefully, I followed Chris 
up a narrow alley to a little old house in bad re- 
pair, with high stairs and a bench of beehives in 
front. Some ragged children were playing around 
the stairs. My guide asked me to wait outside 
while he went in to “warn the old lady,” as he 
put it. 

“Just as you say,” I agreed, but followed him 
up the stairs and into a hallway. 

He opened a door, and in a small room sat my 
mother spinning. How much older she had grown 
these twelve years since I left home! Under a 
checked kerchief her hair showed snowy white. 
There were deep furrows in her face and the eyes 
were sunken. The lines about the mouth told of 
great grief, but the lips showed fortitude and calm 
resignation, while kindness and cheer beamed from 
her still undimmed eyes. To me in that moment 
she seemed even more beautiful than in her younger 
days. Just as Chris entered, she drew the back of 
her hand across the eyes. 

“Sure and you aren’t crying,” he said cheer- 
ingly. “I’ve brought a gentleman who likes to 
meet you, being as he knew your boy Carl.” 


MY FATHERLAND 


141 

“Who might that be?” she asked, growing cu- 
rious, and pushed back the spinningwheel with such 
suddenness that the thread parted. 

“You mustn’t get so excited, mother, but keep 
cool, and maybe the good Lord will send Carl him- 
self back to you,” Chris went on as if in pleas- 
antry. 

I could restrain myself no longer. The next 
moment my dear mother was in my embrace, while 
we mingled tears of joy. 

Chris drew a blue shirtsleeve across his eyes. 
When we heard him loudly praise God for this 
blessed reunion, we both sank to our knees in 
prayer, giving thanks to the Lord for all that had 
befallen us, joys and sorrows alike. 

After rising to our feet, we stood for some 
moments looking closely at one another. She re- 
cognized my eyes, she said, but could hardly believe 
that her ruddy and fairhaired boy would ever turn 
so brown and raise such heavy, dark mustaches. 

“Nor ever wear such fine clothes,” she added, 
giving my apparel a critical look and stroking my 
sleeve again and again. She could hardly convince 
herself that it was really her own son that had 
come back. She was afraid it might all be a dream 
and dreaded a rude awakening. I assured her she 


142 


THE RUBY RING 


need have no fears on that score, as I had come to 
stay with her for good and all. Overjoyed at the 
thought she went from smiles to tears and from 
tears back to beaming smiles. 

Chris brought some fresh water to cool her, 
and after she had regained her composure, we sat 
down side by side on a simple wooden lounge which 
served as a bed at night. 

Now I had to tell her my story from the time 
I left home. Chris hesitated whether to stay or 
leave the room, but I asked him to remain. He 
then said: 

“Mr. Eennartson, would you mind if I went 
to fetch old John? He sails on the brig ‘Unity,’ 
which happens to be in port here just now. He 
grieved terribly to hear that Charlie, the cabin boy, 
was lost, and I’m sure he’d be glad to see him 
alive again.” 

“All right, Chris, go and fetch him, then. That 
old boy was a great blessing to me, and I am eager 
to thank him for all that I learnt from him.” 

Chris hove a sigh of relief as he went. When 
he was gone, I expressed my joy to find him so 
changed. 

“You cannot imagine, mother, what a hardened 
and ungodly fellow he was.” 


MY FATHERLAND 


143 


“God’s ways are not our ways,” she said. “He 
causes the desert to rejoice and blossom like a rose. 
He is also powerful to save hard and sinful hearts, 
and you were fortunate indeed to serve as His in- 
strument.” 

“In reality it was not through me, but through 
Clara’s teacher, Miss Millicent, that God accomp- 
lished this. For it was she who sent the little tract, 
the seed that bore such blessed fruit,” said I. “But 
speaking of Miss Clara, are her parents still living, 
and how are they all at Lindesvik?” 

“Really, I cannot say. But while I was there, 
they were all very good to me, Miss Clara most of 
all. But that was years ago, and since then I have 
heard nothing from them directly. It has been 
rumored that the young barons turned out badly 
and spent so much money that their father will be 
compelled to sell the estate, if he hasn’t already 
done so. But, as I said, I know nothing about 
them for sure. I often thought I would try to learn 
something from Miss Clara, but she has been away 
from home mostly, and I didn’t know her address. 
But after I came here, thank God, I have been 
well provided for. Christian is a good worker, and 
after he took the pledge, he turns over to me every 
penny he earns. It was our dear pastor who influ- 


144 


THE RUBY RING 


enced him to quit drinking. He came to see me 
while I was ill, so ill that prayers were offered for 
me in church. This was when I first came to live 
with Christian and had just learnt that you had 
been lost. The pastor then spoke so kindly to him 
also, that he opened his heart to the Lord’s serv- 
ant, and after that he has attended services regu- 
larly. One day he came home and told me he had 
taken the pledge. Do you know, Carl, since I met 
this good pastor, I have often wished you had lived 
to become such a servant of the Lord, for when 
godfearing men devote themselves to the holy min- 
istry, there is no calling so blessed as that. But as 
you were gone, I prayed to God that he might 
awaken the hearts of many other young men like 
you and give them grace to become true spiritual 
leaders of men.” 

Chris now returned, bringing old John with him, 
and our talk was interrupted. The old tar took 
some time to convince himself that I was really the 
cabin boy he had known, and in a sort of naive be- 
wilderment also closely examined my coat and ex- 
pressed pleasure at finding the former comrade 
turned into such a fine gentleman. 

My mother put away her spinningwheel and lit 
a fire in the open fireplace, for although it was in 


MY FATHERLAND 


i45 


the month of May and the weather was springlike, 
I, having just come from sunny India, felt rather 
chilly. 

We drew our chairs close to the fireside. John 
lit his pipe. Chris, leaning his elbows on his knees, 
supporting his chin with both hands, sat staring 
thoughtfully into the flames. Mother held my hand 
in both of hers while I narrated my adventures in 
foreign climes. 

Not until midnight did we bid one another 
good-night, and then I sought the hotel to which 
Chris had thoughtfully had my baggage sent. 



XV. 

LINDESVIK. 

/TF^HE next day found me on my way north. 

At noon the boat turned into the Uddevalla 
5 fjord. The sun smiled on the bright green 
fields and the prim little villages, and I thought 
Gustafsberg, with its red, white and yellow houses 
gleaming from among the pine trees, looked the 
most charming spot on earth. 

I went straight to the public inn, where I 
ordered coffee. While I sipped the beverage, I 
learnt from a talkative waitress that baron Gyllen- 
feldt with his family was now at Lindesvik; that 
his sons had well-nigh ruined him with their ex- 
travagance, compelling him to dispose of the estate; 
that Miss Louise was engaged to a poverty-stricken 
curate, and that Miss Clara intended to take a 
position as governess. 


146 


IylNDESVIK 


147 


Having finished my coffee, I ordered a carriage, 
and a quarter of an hour later I was riding com- 
fortably along the road to Lindesvik. 

Overwhelmed by boyhood recollections, I could 
no longer sit still, and, ordering the driver to stop, 
I stepped out and walked. 

Trees, shrubs and lawns were fresh with tender 
verdure. The earliest flowers of spring had a charm 
that day never felt before or after. There was 
nothing here of the dazzling color effects of the 
tropics, none of the broad-leaved luxuries of the 
flora of the South and none of the gaudiness of its 
fauna, but the larks in the sky and the thrush in 
the pine-tree sang the praises of spring, while from 
the distance came the note of the cuckoo— that was 
enough for me. As often of old, I stopped to 
listen whence it came. From the west, sure enough, 
and as that w r as an old sign of good luck, I hurried 
confidently on my way. 

Some scrawny cows came strolling leisurely 
down the lane. They seemed to call my attention 
to the neglected condition of the place. I just 
passed a rustic seat where I had often sat reading. 
It was but a heap of rotten staves. 

The court-yard was as green as the meadows. 


148 


THE RUBY RING 


The stucco on the walls of the manorhouse had 
loosened in spots, revealing large areas of red brick. 

There was not a sign of life about the place, 
and when I tried to ring the doorbell, I got a part 
of the bell-chord in my hand. I knocked gently 
at the door, then pounded it vigorously, until finally 
a maid-servant appeared. 

“Do I find the Gyllenfeldts at home?” 

At my question the girl looked me over suspi- 
ciously, then told me to wait and she would find 
out whether they would receive. 

“Kindly say, that a traveler would like to look 
at the estate, which he learns is for sale.” 

I handed her my card, with which she disap- 
peared through the familiar hallway leading to the 
kitchen. Returning, she asked me into the drawing- 
room. 

Only on rare festive occasions had I been per- 
mitted in times past to set my foot in this room. 
To my childish mind it had stood for the height of 
luxury, and I still had a feeling of awe as the 
maid led the way up the stairs. 

When I looked in at the door, I was shocked to 
find the room so small and tawdry. The curtains 
were missing, and the few remaining pieces of 
furniture scattered about the room were dusty and 


UNDKSVIK 


149 


faded. There was a depressing air about the whole 
place. 

I stepped over to the window. The garden 
below was sadly neglected, but beyond was a grassy 
slope studded with clumps of beautiful trees, oaks, 
elms and lindens, standing out against the silvery 
waters of the bay. 

The view would have been charming to any 
eye, but to mine, in my present state of mind, it 
was nothing short of entrancing. I wondered 
whether I really should have the good fortune to 
come into possession of all this. If so, I would see 
my fondest dreams realized. 

I harked back to the day I left. The thought 
of the ill-fated ring came instantly to my mind, 
and then I took from my pocket a little box. To 
reassure myself, I opened it. Yes, there it was, a 
splendid ruby ring, which I had ordered made in 
Paris and set with the jewels I had purchased in 
Katmandoo. This I intended to present to the 
baroness at the proper time. 

But suppose they should refuse to believe me. 
Suppose they should suspect that my fortune was 
the creation of my fancy. Rather than face such a 
humiliation, thought I, I ought to have remained 
in India to my dying day. 


THE RUBY RING 


150 

I was almost on the point of stealing away, 
when a door opened and Lady Gyllenfeldt entered. 

“Mr. Eeonard, I trust you will pardon my 
husband’s delay. He is detained by business mat- 
ters,’’ said she and asked me to be seated. 

We talked of the weather and matters of like 
moment. I was surprised that she had changed so 
slightly. She had always been pale and slender, 
and but for the added impress of sorrow in her 
features, which gave deeper expression to her face, 
I could discearn little change. There was the same 
sweetness and kindliness in her tone. 

After I had informed myself as to the tenants 
and subordinates of the estate, without disclosing 
my identity, the baron and Miss Eouise appeared. 

Time had not been so kind to Baron Gyllen- 
feldt. His hair had turned gray, his back was 
bent, and he moved with difficult} 7 . The powerful 
man I had once known was now a tottering invalid. 

Miss Eouise had also changed, but to her 
advantage. The tall, hoidenish girl was now a lady 
of stately appearance and dignified bearing. Her 
face was pale and serious, but her former coldness 
had disappeared. The ice of youth’s early spring- 
time had melted before the warmer sun of woman- 
hood. 


UNDESVIK 


151 


I had little time for further observations, for 
the old baron came straight to the point. He held 
forth volubly in praise of the property, from which 
I inferred that he was very anxious for a chance 
to sell. He finally invited me to look over the 
estate and asked his wife and daughter to accomp- 
any us on a tour of inspection. “I am not as agile 
as I used to be, Mr. Leonard,” he explained, “but 
age will get the best of us, you know.” 

We started down through the avenue of old 
linden-trees, on which the baron made a long 
speech, and there met a prim little lady carrying a 
basket of wild flowers. 

She was flushed with the warmth of the sun 
and the brisk walk and her hat hung by an elastic 
band at her elbow. A wealth of golden tresses 
encircled her face, and under the finely arched eye- 
brows of a darker shade beamed a pair of soulful 
deep-blue eyes. She came up smiling sweetly, and 
I instantly recognized the good angel of my child- 
hood, Miss Clara, now developed into the fairness 
and loveliness of prime womanhood. 

I was about to call her by name, when the 
baron summoned all his dignity and went through 
the forms of a ceremonious introduction. 

“Mr. Leonard,” he added, “is thinking of pur- 


152 


THE RUBY RING 


chasing dear old Eindesvik,” and at these words 
Miss Clara’s smiles at once gave way to a look of 
sadness. 

“It grieves you, Miss Gyllenfeldt, to have to 
part with your beautiful home, that I can well un- 
derstand,” I said with some feeling, “but pray do 
not take it to heart, so long as the deal is not yet 
closed.” 

“We must all submit to fate and make the 
most of our circumstances, isn’t that the philosophy 
of life, Mr. Leonard ?” pleaded the baron. 

I bowed assent. The baron placed one arm 
around Miss Clara’s shoulders for support. 

“Now, little one,” said he, “we’ll go up to the 
pavilion first, and take in the view of the bay, and 
then down the brook-road.” 

I was pained to see the feeble old gentleman 
struggle up the hill for my sake. I knew the scenes 
from the top of the hill better than he, as that had 
been one of my favorite haunts while a boy. There 
I used to lie prone in the grass reading or day- 
dreaming. Then the little pagoda that crowned the 
hilltop was well kept; now it was crumbling. 

On our way along the brook-road, the baron 
was keeping up the conversation all by himself. I 
answered his questions mechanically, for my mind 









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And there was the ring, 





UNDESVIK 


i53 


was on other matters. I thought I heard every tree 
•and bush tell again the awful tale of the lost ring. 
When we reached the fatal bridge, I caught myself 
exclaiming, as on the day of the search: 

“Here it was!” 

They all stared at me. Clara’s face flushed 
quickly. 

In my bewilderment I pushed my cane between 
the logs of the bridge. It stuck fast, and as I 
pulled it back, something glistened at the end of it. 
I held it up, and — indeed, there was the ring with 
its ruby and diamonds still lustrous. 

“My grandmother’s ring!” exclaimed the baron- 
ess; “and we blamed the poor boy for stealing it.” 

“But now you see that he spoke the truth,” 
said I. “My dear baroness, I am that unfortunate 
boy. You were always kind to him, and he will 
always remain your debtor for the bringing up you 
gave him. God has heard my prayers, and in a 
wonderful manner truth has prevailed !.” 

All eyes turned from me to the ring and from 
the ring back to me. 

“For twelve years it has been hidden there,” 
said the baroness at last. Then she took my hand 
in both of hers and asked my kind forgiveness for 


154 


THE RUBY RING 


the suspicion they had borne against me all that 
time. 

Bending over, I placed her hand to my lips 
and said: 

“My dear madame, for these twelve years I 
thank the Eord with all my heart. They have been 
tedious school-days to me, but not one of them 
would I now miss.” 

“Yes, we have all, no doubt, had our trials,” 
said Miss Eouise in a tender tone. 

Miss Clara’s smiles rivaled the sunshine, but 
the old gentleman was still puzzled. He was almost 
unable to get rid of the idea that I had perished 
with the ‘Orion.’ Not until he had carefully com- 
pared the new ring with the old one was he fully 
convinced that Carl Eennartson and I were one and 
the same person. 

After having finished a late luncheon, the old 
people retired for a siesta and left me with the 
young ladies. 

Miss Clara was very reticent, leaving her elder 
sister to entertain me. She told me about the broth- 
ers. Charles Emil had resigned from the army 
service and gone to farming, and Herman had emi- 
grated to America. His letters were quite satisfac- 
factory. The old parson of the parish, a first rate 


EINDESVIK 


i55 


farmer but a poor guardian of souls, was dead, and 
Miss Eouise wondered who would be his successor. 
The choice would rest with the man who purchased 
Eindesvik. 

Turning to Miss Clara, I asked whether they 
had any certain one in mind. She mentioned Rev. 
Ortenheim. 

The afternoon coffee having been served, the 
baron expressed his desire to hear my “fabulous 
story,” and I sat far into that bright May evening 
narrating my experiences, and when we bade each 
other goodnight at a late hour, day had only faded 
into twilight. 

That never ending daylight in the North was 
so new to me now, that I sat, long after the others 
had retired, at my open window, listening to the 
vesper song of the thrush and reviewing the events 
of the day. When I finally sought my bed, my 
dreams wafted me afar to my friends in Calcutta. 


1 



XVI. 

UNDER THE LINDENS. 

* N the following day I purchased Lindesvik. 
The Gyllenfeldts reserved the right to remain 
for the summer, a condition with which I 
was highly pleased. 

My first act as proprietor of the estate was to 
appoint Rev. Ortenheim rector of the parish. Shortly 
after, Miss Louise’s engagement to the new pastor 
was celebrated. He was a man of worth, whose 
influence on the character of his affianced had been 
such that the parents had not for a moment hesi- 
tated to give their consent to the union with one 
beneath her in social station. This was gratifying 
to me, for it inspired the hope that there would be 
little prejudice left when I should make bold to 
ask for the hand of Miss Clara. 

After we had plighted our troth with the con- 
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sent of her parents, the work of restoring the old 
mansion was begun and rapidly pushed. The old 
couple planned to make their home in Stockholm, 
but it was decided to celebrate a double wedding at 
Lindesvik before they left the old manor. 

So the adored of my youth became my beloved 
wife and now, five years after, she is sitting by my 
side under the lindens. In her lap sits Amy, a fair- 
haired little cherub, who is laughing boisterously 
at the pranks and antics of her brother Frank. He 
is three years old and his greatest delight is to play 
peek-a-boo with mamma and little sister behind the 
trunks of the grand old trees. 

When the children grow quiet, I read to 
my wife what I have been writing. Then we 
are both carried on memory’s tide far away to 
childhood days and we fold our hands in prayer to 
the good Lord, thanking him for greater happiness 
and richer blessings than we had ever hoped for. 

In my past life I have had many a trial, but 
my heavenly Father has followed me with His eye, 
and I have learnt to take everything as from His 
hand, to discern His love even in His punishment. 
But even though we are resigned to our fate and 
have learned the lesson that, come good or evil, all 
is for the best, yet we are often in the dark and 


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THE RUBY RING 


many a question is left unanswered. We look for- 
ward to the time when all things shall be made 
clear, when we shall see him, not as in a glass 
darkly, but face to face, in the fullness of light. 

The thoughts here penned were first awakened 
in my mind by my dear old mother, and she con- 
tinues to instill into my soul the greatest of all wis- 
dom — eternal truth. 

I visit her daily, for the way is not long that 
leads to her little white cottage. It nestles among 
yonder pine-trees. The windows are wreathed with 
vines. In the light and cozy little rooms within 
she is kept busy with light household duties or with 
knitting, spinning or reading her Bible. Her health 
is failing by degrees, and I fear she may not long re- 
main to enjoy the sunshine which never fell across 
her way till well along toward the evening of her life. 

I would have wished to have her live with us, 
but she wanted a little home of her own, and her 
wishes were respected. But it is our pleasure to 
pay her a visit every day. It is the children’s 
delight to go down to grandmother’s and taste of 
her strawberries and goodies or sit, if but for a 
moment, in her lap. They get along famously 
together, and to Frank she has already begun to 


UNDER THE EINDENS 


159 


tell, in her own delightful way, little stories from 
the Bible. 

I had also hoped that Christian, her friend and 
benefactor, would accompany her to Eindesvik, 
where I could easily have found suitable work for 
him, but he declined my invitation saying he had 
better keep on working in the calling that God had 
given him. 

He is a man who lives and works as he be- 
lieves. He looks for young sailors, talks to them 
of God’s mercy as shown to him, reads to them 
from the Word of God and urges them to take the 
pledge of temperance. As he once totally abandoned 
himself to evil-doing, so he now devotes all his 
energies to the service of the Eord in seeking to 
guide men into the way of salvation. 

From my friends in India I often receive 
letters. Amy and her husband are now in England, 
where Sir Edward has inherited from his father a 
large estate named Forrester Hill. Frank is still in 
Calcutta, but intends soon to come back to Europe. 
He tells me an old Hindoo servant confessed on 
his death-bed that he was bribed by Norton to 
burn the letters I wrote home instead of mailing 
them. 

It is a day in July. The linden-trees are all 


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THE RUBY RING 


abloom. Their fragrance is almost surfeiting, and 
myriads of bees are busy carrying honey to the 
hives near and far. My book is finished. The 
honey I have gathered from the flowers of memory 
is all in the comb. I take my wife’s dainty hand 
in mine and watch the ring with the oriental ruby 
and diamonds give back the rays of the sun in 
prismatic colors. Failing of its original purpose, 
it served to seal our betrothal, and bears, besides 
my initials, the legend: 

TRUTH WILL PREVAIL . 





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